


Mutually Beneficial

by Sweet_Christabel



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, I still love that Palpatine's first name is Sheev, Marriage Law Fic, conflicted Padmé, not super happy Anidala, recurring guest character Satine, sobiwan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-27 12:25:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 131,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15024581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweet_Christabel/pseuds/Sweet_Christabel
Summary: Facing an arranged marriage that she legally can't refuse, Sabé enacts a desperate plan to get out of it, asking Obi-Wan Kenobi to marry her instead. Little does she know that it's not just an unwanted fiancé she's avoiding, but a threat to her life as well. With her friends' complicated love lives to deal with too, it would be a very bad time to develop feelings for her husband.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. This is probably a good thing, I'm terribly disorganised.
> 
> A/N: Hello friends, it is I! I wasn't sure I would write for this pairing ever again, but before I took my much-needed break from fandom, I had twenty-odd chapters of a new story written. It seems a waste to not post them and finish it, so here we go on another Sobiwan journey. This started out as my take on the popular marriage law prompt that's been floating around multiple fandoms for many years, but it evolved into something much bigger. I'll be posting the first three chapters over three days to get things moving, then hopefully uploading every two weeks or so. This story takes a little while to get going, so please be patient with me.
> 
> This is first and foremost a Sobiwan story, but I also wanted to take the opportunity to explore a more volatile, slightly more unstable Anakin, and to play with the 'what-if' of Padmé having lingering feelings for someone else. If you are a hardcore Anidala shipper and you can't bear the thought of them having problems, this story is not for you. You have been warned! I just loved the thought of Palpatine being even more manipulative and trying to poke holes in their marriage to get at Anakin.

**Chapter One – Prologue.**

_The future…_

_"Listen carefully now. I have something important to say. When you're older there will be people who will tell you that the Jedi were not to be trusted, that they were warmongers, that Emperor Palpatine saved the galaxy from their greed and control. They will tell you that Darth Vader and his Inquisitors hunted them down for the good of all of us. But they're wrong. There is a truth behind all of this that they want us to deny and forget: that the Jedi were guardians, peacekeepers, who fought out of necessity in an attempt to save lives and preserve freedom." Sabé paused in her narration, finding it harder to relay than she'd thought. Her one-person audience stared at her in open expectation, and she took a deep breath before continuing. "Your father wants me to tell you this, because he knows that you can keep the secret. He knows that it's important for you to hear the truth, because one day it could save your life."_

_The six-year-old princess blinked her wide, dark eyes, her expression solemn and rapt. She was too young to accept the weight of truth and lies, but Sabé had no doubt that she would keep it hidden. She was mature for her age. Too mature. Sabé worried that she was growing up too fast, accepting burdens too early._

_"How could it save my life?" Leia asked. "A Jedi couldn't help me if they're all dead."_

_"There...there is still one," Sabé told her, speaking aloud what she'd sworn never to reveal, the words sticking in her throat. It felt like disloyalty. She forced herself to say the rest, because she knew how important it was, how important the girl in front of her was. "There is someone you can go to if all other hope has gone. He'll help you if he can."_

_"A Jedi?" Leia whispered, her tone reverent._

_Sabé nodded. "He fought in the Clone Wars, trying to protect the Republic your father believed in. When the betrayal happened he barely escaped with his life. After everything he gave to the galaxy..." She left the sentence unfinished, unable to find the words. "He saved lives, over and over."_

_"How do you know that?" Leia asked, a serious little frown creasing her brow._

_Sabé resisted a gentle smile at the earnest expression. "Because he also saved mine, more than once. He was a great warrior, yet a wise and skilful negotiator. He's...my definition of a good man."_

_Leia's face was an open book, awestruck and fascinated at the picture Sabé was weaving. She had planned it that way. She needed the story to stay with the princess long after it was told._

_"He is...the best man I've ever known," she added, unable to fully keep the touch of sadness from her tone._

_"Who is he?" Leia asked her with undisguised interest._

_Sabé couldn't hold back the tiny smile that his name invoked, filled with memories of everything that made him who he was: a man she would love forever._

_"Obi-Wan Kenobi."_

* * * * * * *

_Present day._

As the first difficult year of the Clone Wars drifted to a close, the Republic reluctantly began to accept the fact that it would not be won easily. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine was able to give more and more aid to the war efforts by means of increasing his so-called emergency powers, each time giving his solemn promise to give them up when the fighting was over. Some senators approved of his actions, while others remained wary. But all of them could see the way things were heading in the Senate. Palpatine was more powerful than any chancellor before him. Those who wished to further their political careers clustered around him, hoping to gain his favour. Most attempts were clumsy and unsubtle, traits that Palpatine did not seem to appreciate. Those who had even the slightest chance of success were more shrewd with their approaches.

One such successful man was Quaine Daedrin of Axum. Senator Daedrin was not the kind of fawning, sycophantic politician that the Chancellor so detested. He got himself noticed by other means, namely his steady, understated support of Palpatine's policies, and his diplomatic skills during Senate meetings. His gentle, almost-friendly manner cloaked the manipulation beneath it as he persuaded senators to see his point of view. Palpatine was both impressed by and wary of such a skill, which placed Daedrin comfortably in his sight. Then, when he had been sure that the Chancellor had noticed him, he had very publicly exposed a Separatist spy in Palpatine's office, earning the man's respect and amusing him in the process, for the wily Chancellor knew exactly why Daedrin had done it. Palpatine was amused enough to draw Daedrin into an informal, unofficial group known as the inner circle, and there he remained, much to the envy and admiration of many other senators.

But there were some who saw Daedrin's rise as an opportunity of their own. Two such people were Jago and Luma Simmonite of Senator Padmé Amidala's political team, her personal liaisons on Naboo. They heard Daedrin's story with wry amusement and immediately saw a chance to arrange a marriage for their daughter, Syrena. Such a marriage for their only child would be a huge step towards the Chancellor's inner circle, and in a way subtle enough to avoid suspicion.

Syrena, who was more commonly known as Sabé, royal handmaiden and member of the Order of Sanctuary, was twenty-seven and, in her parents' objective opinion, had much to offer an astute, up-and-coming senator. She was intelligent and loyal, quick-witted and headstrong, slender with fine cheekbones, full lips and large, expressive dark eyes. Her hair fell in tousled brunette waves down her back, and she often wore it tied up for convenience. Luma often thought it looked untidy, but she supposed it gave her daughter an element of wild charm.

Sabé had not followed the political path of her parents, but served as an aide to Queen Neeyutnee. Her status as a handmaiden was another element that worked in her favour. It was a highly cultivated and skilled position, held by many women of noble birth. It had given Sabé formal court training and etiquette, as well as her name, which marked her status in the Order of Sanctuary. Daedrin was bound to be impressed. Or so Jago and Luma hoped. Their plans were coming together.

The only thing that remained was to inform the bride.


	2. Any Means Necessary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to those of you who left kudos. Before we get to our handmaiden, I thought I'd take this opportunity to see what the antagonists are up to. This is the first time I've ever written from Palpatine's perspective. Senator Quaine Daedrin belongs to me. It was kind of fun to let Palpatine play with him like a chew toy.

**Chapter Two - Any Means Necessary.**

Darth Sidious, the Sith Lord the galaxy knew as Chancellor Palpatine, liked the view from the panoramic window in his office. It seemed an obvious statement to make, but Sith Lords didn't usually bother themselves with _liking_ trivial things. It was a waste of time and energy, ultimately resulting in nothing useful. But regardless, he liked his view. He liked seeing the sprawl of the senatorial district below, the stretch of Coruscant's skyscrapers, the mile upon mile of buildings, people, _life_. He liked knowing that they danced to his tune. The Republic was his, and he never got tired of reminding himself of that. Perhaps it was a little petty to gloat, but he deserved it. It hadn't been an easy journey, and it was far from over.

Anakin Skywalker was far stronger than he had initially realised. The conflicted young Jedi hadn't given in to the darkness within him, despite the many opportunities Sidious had put in his way. Ultimately, it didn't matter. He would turn eventually. Sidious had seen it. It was just taking longer than he'd anticipated. That in itself wasn't a bad thing. Anakin's poorly-repressed anger was still growing, still gnawing at his thoughts, and his dreams continually showed him his fears. Sidious had made sure of that. To his delight, the HoloNet press had given Anakin the nickname The Hero With No Fear, and he enjoyed watching the Jedi Knight try his hardest to live up to it. The extra pressure, combined with the dreams Sidious regularly sent him, meant that finally, at long last, cracks were beginning to show. Anakin was on the path to the Dark Side, hurtling along it with a certainty that only Sidious could see, his mind full of dread and fury, his heart full of nothing but good intentions. It was really very sad. If Sidious had been the sympathetic type, that was.

While he was happy to wait for Anakin's inevitable downfall, (he was a patient man, after all), it did have one or two irritating side effects. He had had visions of the Republic becoming his Empire after the Clone Wars were over, but for that he needed Anakin. Tyranus was too weak to stand at his side when he was an emperor. Only Anakin could do that, _deserved_ that, and the two of them would inspire fear and obedience throughout the galaxy.

The Clone Wars would only end when Anakin became his apprentice. Only then could he create his Empire. Since, for the moment, the Jedi refused to give in to his dark instincts, the war had to go on a little longer, and therein lay the minor problems. War was expensive and delicate, and in order to ensure that it progressed in the way he intended, he needed to keep his dictatorial authority. There were an ever-growing number of senators who were displeased with the drain on the Republic's finances, as well as the way he'd kept his emergency powers and continued to increase them. Because he was still living most of his time as shrewd-yet-harmless Chancellor Palpatine, he had to deal with the naysayers as any politician might: legally and with sound argument. On the surface, at least.

He'd used a sympathy vote to get elected as chancellor, drawing on reactions to woeful reports of the Trade Federation's invasion of his homeworld, as well as Padmé Amidala's heartfelt plea for help. The senators rose up in angry droves, voting him in to satisfy their feelings of righteousness. It had been laughably easy. There was no reason why a similar trick shouldn't quiet those who were beginning to turn against him. It wouldn't have to be on nearly the same scale, of course. Just a gentle reminder that he needed his power to restore justice to the people. Padmé would no doubt be just as much a help as she had been the first time. Her passion for doing the right thing seemed to be inspiring to others, and she was never more sincere than when something affected Naboo.

Unsure as to which specific path to take, Sidious asked the Force to provide an answer. Two days later Quaine Daedrin exposed the spy in his office, earning his attention. Sidious had known about the spy, of course, but he knew that it would seem odd if the Separatists didn't try to infiltrate the Senate. And besides, the spy had been a useful way of passing information.

While Sidious had known about it, the persona of Palpatine hadn't, and he'd reacted with the appropriate amount of shock, disappointment and gratitude. It was blindingly obvious that Daedrin's ultimate goal was his approval, but the man's unusually devious plan seemed out of place in a senator of his diplomatic calibre. Sidious found it interesting, wondering if Daedrin could be useful, and readily accepted him into his inner circle of other potentially useful people.

Just over a week later, Daedrin requested an appointment to discuss a matter pertaining to Naboo. Ever mindful of the plan he was hoping to craft, Sidious agreed to the meeting. In preparation, he consulted his sources, digging for information about the charismatic senator from Axum. What he learned pleased him, and augmented his belief that the man could be of use. With the right incentive, of course. Fortunately, with his new knowledge, Sidious had that incentive at his fingertips.

Daedrin was a practiced manipulator, clearly knowing enough to present a likeable, trustworthy front to the public without going over the top. Sidious saw his affable persona, listening to him spout pleasantries with an impressive amount of sincerity, but to a Sith he reeked of duplicity. Ambition was obviously one of his driving traits. Daedrin displayed the most deceit and cunning he'd seen from a senator in a long time.

Sitting in his chair, wearing one of Palpatine's open, pleasant expressions, he waited, hoping that Daedrin was punctual. The senator knew better than to keep the Chancellor waiting, turning up at the office a few minutes early.

Sidious offered him a chair after greetings had been exchanged, and the senator took his seat, his posture confident, paired with the right amount of deference. He was good, very good. He knew exactly what he was doing. Lesser men than Sidious would probably be fooled into thinking he was genuine.

"So, Senator Daedrin," Sidious began, his voice a welcoming invitation to share concerns, "what can I do for you?"

"I was hoping to pick your brains, Chancellor," Daedrin said, leaning back in his chair, his data pad resting on his lap. "I've received a letter that I'm not sure what to make of. Are you familiar with Jago and Luma Simmonite?"

Padmé Amidala's Theed correspondents. Hardly worth his notice, but he made it his business to know everyone in politics.

"I believe we have met once or twice," he answered, resting his clasped hands on the desk in front of him. "What of it?"

Daedrin's carefully-neutral expression shifted slightly, betraying a touch of awkwardness. "They've written to introduce themselves, and they've offered their daughter's hand in marriage. They say that arranging marriages is legal on Naboo."

Sidious raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. That wasn't the course he'd been expecting the conversation to take. "Yes, it is. Although the law that allows it is hundreds of years old. Most people don't acknowledge it, but legally it still stands. It is unusual for parents to involve a groom from offworld though. Did they give any reason why they have chosen you?"

"Only the expected praise and admiration for my political skills," Daedrin said, his tone a careful balance between boastful and matter-of-fact. "I've been so fortunate as to come under your notice, Chancellor, it's only natural that that attracts attention."

"Oh, I agree," Sidious told him truthfully. "Their daughter is acquainted with Senator Amidala, is she not?"

Daedrin nodded. "Yes, she is a royal handmaiden, and has been for some years, I understand."

Sidious studied the younger man. He looked…almost intrigued. That was interesting. Momentarily putting it aside, he turned his focus back to the girl.

"She must be the decoy who tricked Viceroy Gunray," he mused. Not a difficult achievement, by any means. The viceroy was a fool.

"I have heard that story also."

The first strands of understanding were beginning to form, and he realised the Force was pointing him in the right direction. He followed his thoughts to their natural conclusion, confident that answers would become apparent very soon.

"If that is so, that would make her a member of the Order of Sanctuary," he said, resisting a smile. That was it, the leverage he needed to draw on the sympathies of the people.

"I'm not familiar with them," Daedrin put in, and Sidious felt a flash of irritation at his interruption and even his very presence in his office. Explaining things to ignorant people was so tedious.

"The Order was not always as well known as they are now," Sidious informed him, sitting back more comfortably in his chair, keeping his face placid and accommodating. "They are an elite group of female warriors, exclusive to Naboo. Highly trained, highly dedicated, they make it their job to protect people of import. Most of the Queen's handmaidens are Order members, as are some of Senator Amidala's, I understand. They represent the highest class of security on Naboo, and were once something of a legend. Now, I would describe them as...an iconic group."

Daedrin looked suitably engrossed, and it appeared to be authentic. "Kind of like a lesser version of the Jedi then?"

"Oh, not nearly in the same league, my boy," Sidious said with a genial chuckle. "And without quite so many restrictive rules."

He watched Daedrin process the information, saw him pick up on his slightly negative opinion of the Jedi. He was quick, Sidious had to give him that. There was more comprehension in his strangely mismatched eyes than the Sith Lord had initially been expecting. That was promising. He was intelligent _and_ ambitious: two things that Sidious liked useful people to be. It saved an awful lot of hassle in the long run.

Changing the subject, he said, "I'm going to ask you something, Senator Daedrin, and I want you to answer truthfully."

Daedrin looked suddenly wary, clearly unsure if it was a trick question. Sidious didn't blame him.

"Of course, sir."

Adopting a conversational tone, he fixed Daedrin with a steady look. "I hear that you have risen very high, very fast through the political ranks on Axum, and I can't help but wonder: does a man like you accomplish that with diplomacy alone? Or does he use any means necessary to get what he wants?" He ended his sentence with a thin-lipped smile of encouragement.

Daedrin took a moment to compose his answer. For the first time, he seemed uncomfortable. "I, uh, I'm not quite sure what you're implying, Chancellor, but-"

"I'm not implying anything," Sidious cut in, still polite, still pleasant. "I am simply _asking_. And I would like the truth." He let a steely edge seep into his voice, the faintest hint of a warning.

"Yes," Daedrin said at once. "Yes, of course. I..." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I have been known to take...unorthodox measures...when others have failed. But only ever in a good cause."

"Naturally," Sidious commented sardonically.

Daedrin frowned, still uncertain about what was happening and why he was being asked to explain himself. His confusion was written all over his face.

"Let me guess," Sidious went on. "Your unorthodox measures include...blackmail? Framing?"

The younger man's expression told him everything he needed to know about how accurate he was. And there was a spark of dread there too. There was something he really didn't want known, more than anything else.

Sidious plucked the word from the air, lips twisting up in another little smile. "Murder?"

Daedrin's already-pale face turned a shade paler. "It...it was self-defence, sir. I had no choice. I regret it utterly and completely, but..."

"No, Senator, you don't. What you regret is that I know about it."

Daedrin seemed uncharacteristically speechless, hurriedly searching for the right thing to say.

"It was Darnell, was it not?" Sidious asked casually, calling the name to mind. He'd read about the diplomat's untimely demise, even before he'd sought information about Daedrin. "The authorities declared that it was an unfortunate accident. But very advantageous for you. It paved the way to your position as senator."

"You don't understand, Chancellor, Darnell was corrupt to the core. He was taking bribes from the Separatists."

"Oh, I know." Holding back a laugh at Daedrin's incredulous expression, he elaborated. "There is very little that I do not know about the members of the Senate, especially the corrupt ones. You did well to deal with the problem, although your methods were a little extreme."

"I didn't mean for that to happen," the senator insisted, and there was an element of truth in his manner. "When I challenged him about his actions, he pulled a vibroblade on me. I had no choice."

Sidious fixed him with a penetrating stare, enjoying the look of intimidation on his face. "While I believe that he surprised you, I find it difficult to reconcile how a fight in self-defence turned into a murder that was conveniently written off as an accident."

Daedrin dropped his gaze to his hands, clasped tightly in his lap. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, laced with a trace of defeat. He apparently assumed that he was beaten, exposed as a fraud, and had decided to drop the front of innocence. "It _was_ an accident. He lunged at me with the blade. I dodged, and we wrestled for control of the knife. I saw an opportunity to pitch him over the balcony, so I took it. The vibroblade flew out of his hand as he fell. The authorities never found it. I left his apartment and altered the security feed. No one ever even suspected that I'd been there. Darnell liked a drink. Most people assume that he was drunk when he fell."

Pleased to have heard the story in the man's own words, Sidious nodded. "I see. That has cleared the matter up considerably. Thank you, Senator."

"I suppose I'm to be arrested now?" Daedrin asked, fearful but still harbouring a hint of confident defiance.

Sidious smiled at him, watching the confusion dance across the senator's face. "Not at all. Your secret is safe with me."

"Then why..."

"I expect honesty from my associates, Senator Daedrin. Especially those I am only just getting to know. It benefits me to be aware of what skills you have to offer. I never know when I might need to make use of them. Now, Senator, answer me this: do you believe in our cause and the war we're fighting?"

Allowing himself to relax slightly, Daedrin cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. If he was bemused about the direction of the conversation, he kept it to himself. "Yes, of course. The Republic has to protect itself."

"And would you agree that we must win, whatever the cost?"

After a brief, loaded pause, the senator nodded once. He seemed to comprehend that a great deal rode on his reply. "Yes," he said simply.

Sidious met his gaze, adopting a slightly more nonchalant tone. "Good. If we're to see victory, I must continue to use the powers the Senate gave me to progress the war in the right direction. Unfortunately, there are a growing number of senators who still believe that I should surrender those powers. That is something I cannot do, Senator, not in good conscience, not while the Republic still needs my leadership. I swore I would give up the emergency powers when the war ends, and I intend to honour that. _After_ I see us victorious. I don't think that makes me unreasonable, do you?"

"Not at all, Chancellor," Daedrin answered sincerely. "I think it's commendable that you intend to see it through."

Sidious was glad that the senator was not being overly deferential, but then he'd always been smart enough to avoid that sort of behaviour. If there was one thing the Chancellor couldn't stand, it was sycophantic politicians.

He rose to his feet, walking the short distance to the window. He looked out across the criss-crossing lines of traffic, creeping along in orderly rows, contained there by nothing more than a strict airway code. People were always so eager to do what they were told.

"How do you intend to keep your emergency powers?" Daedrin spoke up.

"There is only a small chance that the disputers will gather enough support to make a winning argument," Sidious admitted, turning to glance at him, "but I would rather not take that chance."

"What do you need me to do?" Daedrin asked, looking up at him with a grim, sincere gaze, a touch of resigned inevitability in his voice.

So he understood his position. That was sensible of him. Sidious squared his shoulders, clasping his hands behind his back, and studied the traffic once more. Time to drop the final bombshell.

"I understand that what happened with Darnell was an accident...of sorts. But I also know what you were before you were a senator, how you raised funds for your campaigns."

"No," Daedrin murmured. Sidious could see his shocked expression reflected in the window. "That's...impossible, nobody knew...nobody could connect that name with the one I've made for myself since."

"It wasn't as difficult to connect the pieces as you seem to think, Senator. Trust me, a good freelance assassin can be surprisingly hard to find, so when one disappears without a trace...one must look to who comes to prominence at the same time. It was very simple. Either you killed him, or you _were_ him. And I think we both know which." Shooting a barbed smile over his shoulder, he added, "Don't look so panicked, Senator Daedrin. I wish to hire you."

"Hire me," the senator repeated faintly. Gathering his composure, he added, "Off the record, I assume."

Sidious didn't dignify that with an answer.

"Would that be in exchange for not exposing me to the authorities?"

"Partially," Sidious told him with a nod. "But you will be paid for your services too. I have no wish to expose your crimes. Despite your past, you are a gifted diplomat and a credit to Axum. If you deal with this small, unpleasant business of mine, you will be a credit to the Republic too, not to mention a help to the war effort."

Pivoting away from the window, he studied Daedrin's bewildered countenance, and inwardly sighed. It was almost too easy to manipulate these people.

"I...accept," the senator said at length. "What do you need?"

"The Order of Sanctuary," Sidious proclaimed, earning a wide-eyed stare of confusion from Daedrin. "Their reputation is becoming more widely known across the Republic, people know that they are among the finest bodyguards in the galaxy. Above all else, they are a shining example of what Naboo can offer. If, one by one, they started... _dying_..." He let the word hang, teasing out the silence. "It could be construed as a direct attack on my homeworld."

Daedrin visibly struggled for control over his astonishment, eventually taming it as he got used to the idea. "And that would generate enough sympathy that people would cut back on their criticism," he stated.

"I believe so, yes."

"But... Forgive me, Chancellor, but...you're really willing to kill innocent women, security officers, no less?"

"There's a bigger picture here, Senator Daedrin," Sidious reminded him callously. "It's my job to make difficult choices for the benefit of the Republic."

Daedrin did not look convinced, but apparently decided that questioning him was an unwise path to walk. No doubt the threat of the truth about his past was also at play.

Sidious took his seat again, pressing his fingertips together, peering over the top of them with a steely-eyed look. "Come now, Senator, I doubt you're really that shocked. After all, it's just another job for you, isn't it? And I assure you, I will not forget your service."

Daedrin glanced at his hands briefly, taking a moment to consider. "I think...," he began, seemingly searching for the right words, "that none of us are in a position to question your decisions, Chancellor." He was not fawning, simply declaring that in the future he would choose not to ask for details. The less he knew, the better. "I will gladly follow any orders you give me…in my… _other_ professional capacity. And I'll be grateful for whatever support you can offer in my political career."

Sidious smiled one of his humourless, cold smiles. "Very wisely spoken," he said mockingly.

It was always a gamble, exposing Palpatine's unsympathetic, darker side, but in this case it was necessary. Daedrin was nothing more than a means to an end, a tool to get a job done. And if he got himself caught, it didn't matter, because he was something else too: expendable. He wouldn't talk, not while Sidious had the threat of his past hanging over him.

"The means are up to you, of course," the Sith Lord told him. "If you choose to work with an accomplice, that's your prerogative, but keep the information you share with them to a bare minimum. And be prepared to travel. There are several Order members guarding dignitaries here on Coruscant, but most will be on Naboo, with several further afield. This could very well be a long-term assignment, as the Order members will be harder to find once they realise what is happening to their colleagues."

"I understand, sir," Daedrin said submissively. "Perhaps it might be wise to leave a gap of several weeks between hits? If that wouldn't interfere with your plans. I wouldn't want to bring suspicion on myself by moving too swiftly."

Sidious considered the request, weighing up the pros and cons. He could certainly work with an ongoing threat. It could even turn out to be more effective, keeping the matter in the public eye for longer, refreshing people's memories with every HoloNet report. A rapid hit on the Order would be over too quickly.

"Whatever you think best," he replied, all cordiality and benevolence once more. "Ensure that you make an impact to begin with, though. Take out three or four over, say, a month. Then you can slow down. I will not insult your intelligence by asking if you can handle alibis."

"I usually come up with something."

"In a few months, I will arrange for you to be noticed by the HoloNet crews for exposing another spy, or something similar." He waved it off dismissively: he would smooth out the details later. "As before, I will be indebted to you. Then, by the time your lovely new wife is found dead, the public can share your distress, and it will seem a personal insult to me."

Daedrin seemed vaguely startled, as if he'd forgotten why he'd even come. "I, uh, I wasn't even sure whether…if I would accept the proposal. Do...do you think I should?"

Sidious glanced at him thoughtfully. It wouldn't make a huge amount of difference either way, aside from perhaps lessening any suspicion about Daedrin's involvement.

"I leave it in your hands," he told him graciously. "There will be benefits if you do accept, but the choice is yours. After all, you are the one who would have to live with her for a time."

Daedrin raised a single eyebrow at the word 'benefits', no doubt thinking of more gratifying things than a potential cover for his assassinations. Sidious inwardly sneered. Ordinary men were so undisciplined, so simple, so blinded by their own selfish desires. It made them much easier to manipulate, but he couldn't help looking at them with disdain. A Sith learned to ignore unimportant needs, to treat them with the nonchalance they deserved and focus on the bigger picture.

He watched the thoughts zipping through Daedrin's head, content to wait patiently until the man had made his decision. Being a chancellor in wartime meant there were many demands on his time, but he exercised patience nonetheless.

"I will write back to the Simmonites," Daedrin announced at length, "and tell them that I'm interested. I remember their daughter, actually. I saw her once when I met with the Queen."

Ah, so that explained the touch of fascination Sidious had seen in the younger man. The girl was probably pretty.

"I can't deny that it will be a lot less effort than a regular marriage," he went on. "And it will, as you say, have its benefits."

Sidious nodded in agreement. "Good. That's everything settled then."

Picking up on the air of dismissal, Daedrin got to his feet, almost losing his data pad as it slid off his lap. He fumbled for it clumsily. Sidious watched with amusement, knowing that the man's disintegrated composure was entirely down to him. He'd walked into the office with confidence, exuding charisma and respect. He was apprehensive now, and a little awestruck. Sidious had a way of inspiring those traits in people.

"I will let you get to your writing," he said, pasting on one of Palpatine's more pleasant smirks.

Daedrin sketched a stylish bow, clawing back a small amount of his dignity as he did so. "Thank you, Chancellor. Good day."

Sidious let him get within a few feet of the door, then called, "And Senator..."

Daedrin turned, eyebrows raised in question, eyes darting about nervously. "Yes, sir?"

"Do not breathe a word of what we have discussed."

From the anxious way he nodded, Sidious knew that Daedrin had heard the threatening undertones in his voice. There was no need to scare him any more. Today.

Daedrin turned on one heel, and departed the office as quickly as etiquette allowed him. Sidious chuckled briefly to himself, rotating his chair so that he faced the window. He knew the senator was capable of tracking down the Order members without his help. Once he began researching, he'd know what to look for. The plan should work, all being well, and if it didn't, it was no great loss. He'd think of something else. Daedrin's skills were useful, but he was ultimately replaceable. _Everyone_ was replaceable. Except perhaps...Anakin.

Sidious didn't like admitting it. Accepting that he needed Anakin seemed like a weakness, but it didn't alter the truth. The volatile young man was a unique case, only scratching the surface of his potential. He'd be a legendary Sith, in time. Time was something that Sidious hoped he'd just bought himself. His grand plans could wait. In the meantime, he had a Senate to control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next chapter, Sabé receives the news of her engagement. She's not going to be happy.


	3. Undesirable Pact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own Sabé's family... That sounds weird.

**Chapter Three – Undesirable Pact.**

Blissfully unaware of her parents' intentions for her regarding marriage, Sabé was enjoying her day off, happy to let someone else have the responsibility of managing the Queen's handmaidens for a short rotation. Securely holed up in her pleasant suite of rooms at the palace, she basked in the sunlight that streamed through her window as she sat at her desk. Her head bent gracefully over the letter she was composing on her data pad, several spiralling strands of hair forming web-like patterns on the surface of the desk.

_Dear Obi-Wan,_ the letter began.

_I hope all is well with you and that you are continuing to survive this war uninjured. I will freely admit now that I have nothing of interest to say this time, and am simply writing this letter so as to not lose contact with you. I expect an enlightening and exciting reply, however._

_Naboo is flourishing at the moment. The flowers in the palace gardens are just beginning to bloom. It's beautiful. It's a pity that that Blue Shadow incident was the cause of your last visit here. At least we managed to grab that cup of caf after it had all died down. It's not often that we get the chance to meet in person, is it? I am glad that we've continued sending these letters over the years._

The beeping of her comlink interrupted her next sentence, and she reached for it with a grumble, half expecting a summons from Captain Panaka for some crisis or other.

"This is Sabé," she answered warily, childishly screwing up her eyes in anticipation of losing her free day.

"Only me," came her mother's voice.

Sabé let out a sigh and slumped in her chair. Not the duty she was expecting, but duty nonetheless.

"Your father and I would like to talk to you," her mother continued, barrelling into the conversation in her usual straightforward fashion. Luma Simmonite was a woman who seemed to harbour the belief that greetings and pleasantries were social rules that only applied to other people. "Are you free to come over? You mentioned that you'd be off today."

"Now?" Sabé asked jadedly.

"If possible. It's important."

"What's this about?"

"I'd rather not say over the com channel. Just come over."

"Fine," Sabé said through gritted teeth. "I'll be right there."

Irritated by the intrusion to her quiet writing, she signed off and typed rapidly on the data pad.

_Well I'm being summoned by my parents for some reason. I'll write again when I have more to say. In the meantime it's your turn!_

_Your good friend,_

_Sabé._

She hurriedly sent the letter, then went in search of shoes. Although she hadn't had particular plans for her day, she was annoyed to have it disrupted. She loved her parents, but sometimes wished they lived in a different city. Theed was altogether too small, made all the smaller by the fact that her parents often met with Queen Neeyutnee on political business. There really was no escaping them if Sabé wanted to keep her job.

Locating her shoes from where they'd been kicked under the bed, she slipped them on, and hastened from the palace, squinting a little as she stepped out into the sunshine. The warmth embraced her, providing balance for the cool breeze that tugged at her hair. It was perfect weather for being outside without a cloak. Spring flowers were beginning to bloom in the planters that lined the promenades, giving the air a faint sweetness that she'd missed during the winter months. Not for the first time, she reflected that Theed was one of the most beautiful cities in the galaxy.

Jago and Luma lived in a luxury apartment not far from the palace, so it did not take Sabé long to walk there, despite the streets being busy with tourists and market-goers. She expertly weaved her way through them, arriving on her parents' doorstep almost exactly ten minutes after leaving the palace.

She was welcomed in by their serving droid and shown through to her father's spacious office. Both Jago and Luma were present there, and they both looked up with a smile as she entered. Jago sat behind the desk, his hazel eyes warmer than his smile. Sabé had never known him to display affection too openly. He was a politician through and through, rarely betraying too much of himself to those around him. It had served him well in his career, but had made him rather distant as a father. He was a man with presence, tall, handsome, well-dressed, his slight belly one of many signs that he lived well. His hair, once as dark as Sabé's own, was streaked with grey but, like many men, the look suited him.

Luma stood at her husband's side, her hands linked as she toyed with her wedding ring. She had her own office, of course, but seemed as comfortable in Jago's as she was in her own domain. Her greying honey-blonde hair was secured in its usual elaborate bun, and her dress was smart and formal, in a style reminiscent of some of Padmé's plainer gowns. Her make-up was flawless, suitable for her age. As usual, she looked far more put-together than Sabé felt, something that happened often and always struck her as being the wrong way round.

"Syrena," her mother greeted, "thank you for coming so promptly."

Sabé was so used to her parents' stubborn usage of her birth name that she didn't even bother correcting them any more.

"You gave me little choice," she said, her tone not nearly as suspicious as she felt it should be. "What's all the fuss?"

Jago sat forward in his seat, resting his chin on his clasped hands. "We have some news for you. Do you want to sit down?"

Sabé took the chair opposite the desk, smoothing her skirts as she sat. "How bad is this news?" she said in an attempt at light-heartedness.

"Dearest, it's not bad news at all," Luma pacified. "It's a wonderful opportunity."

At that, Sabé's alarm bells started ringing. She had always got on well with her parents in a civil if not exactly affectionate sense, so she knew to be wary when Luma began addressing her as 'dearest'. She knew her mother loved her, in her own way, but she had never been the maternal type, and so the endearment sounded horribly false.

"What sort of opportunity?" Sabé asked, narrowing her eyes.

"You've heard of Quaine Daedrin, of course," Jago stated.

"The senator? Yes. Why?"

"He's a new favourite of Chancellor Palpatine's since he uncovered that spy. Apparently he's right up there in the inner circle."

Sabé nodded, wondering where the conversation was heading. She was aware that it was her parents' ultimate goal to be included in the inner circle.

Just as she was thinking over the fact, Jago repeated it aloud, running a hand through his hair in a way that seemed uncharacteristically tense. Automatically, Sabé felt herself tense up too, her taut muscles making her sit stiffly in her seat.

"We think that Senator Daedrin may be our way in," Luma told her, her gaze faintly calculating as she thought about it.

"How?" Sabé asked, curious in spite of herself.

"Through his wife."

"But he's not married, is he?"

"No, not yet." Luma looked pointedly at her daughter. Her careworn-yet-striking features were unusually placid, revealing barely a trace of her inner thoughts.

Sabé's eyes widened and her jaw fell open in surprise. Holding up a hand, she snapped, "Oh no, no way."

"Syrena, be reasonable," Jago put in, the simple three words sending her back to her childhood. How many times had she heard them, heard the subtle warning behind them?

"Reasonable?" Sabé squeaked, her voice shrill in her panic. "You're trying to marry me to a man I've never properly met and you're telling _me_ to be reasonable?"

Jago heaved a sigh that spoke volumes, namely that his daughter was reacting exactly as predicted. "Apart from the other benefits, you would be in a perfect position to help us."

"To help you with what exactly?" she asked scathingly, gesturing for emphasis. "Your ambitions? I've never shared them, why are you involving me?"

"Many people are growing wary of the Chancellor's rise in power. You would be in a good position to find out if he's corrupt, and if he isn't...well, it's no small thing to be married to one of his closest associates."

"Do _you_ think he's corrupt?"

Jago shrugged. "Who knows? But you'd be in a useful situation either way."

Sabé bit her tongue against another snapped retort. She had no desire to be _useful._

"You've been of a marriageable age for some years now," said Luma, her dark eyes, so like Sabé's own, fixing her with a stern stare. "We are well within our rights to arrange a suitable match for you."

Sabé grimaced, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. She knew they were right, taking advantage of an ancient law passed when Naboo had suffered a severe drop in the population following an outbreak of disease. The law stated that if a girl had not married by the time she was sixteen it could fall to her parents to arrange. Not all parents chose to do so. Most were unaware that the law still held.

She stared down at her hands, watching her knuckles turn ivory, trying to be calm, trying to think her way out of it. Her head was spinning, bombarding her with thoughts and opinions, too many, too fast for her to get a grip of. She needed to stop the panic, and quickly, before she let it rule her actions.

"Look," said Jago, trying and failing to sound understanding, "if it doesn't work out you can always get the marriage annulled."

"On what grounds?" Sabé asked breathlessly, trying to exert some semblance of control.

"Non-consummation," Luma offered casually.

Sabé stared at her, incredulous. "Mother, the man is thirty-three years old, there's no way I'd get away with non-consummation!"

"Women know all sorts of little tricks to avoid that, darling."

Sabé hastily held up a hand. "I do _not_ want to have this conversation with you, especially in front of my father."

Irritatingly patient, her mother argued, "It would only be until the war ends…"

"That could be years!"

"You shouldn't be so negative about this so quickly," Luma tried again. "You did say that he was good-looking."

"Objectively," Sabé snapped. "It doesn't suggest that I wish to spend the rest of my life with him."

"He's a wealthy man," Jago pointed out. "You'd want for nothing."

"I don't..." she began, trailing off with a little huff of exasperation. "He may not be interested anyway," she added, changing direction.

"Oh, he's interested," Luma said excitedly, a keen glint lighting her eyes, a sign of ambitions within reach.

Sabé glanced at her sharply. "What?"

"We contacted him about you, and he remembered you from that time the Queen visited the Senate and met with him."

Sabé thought back to that incident. To her it was insignificant, hardly worth the remembering. Queen Neeyutnee had been speaking with a group of senators, one of which happened to be Quaine Daedrin. None of the dignitaries had even so much as glanced in her direction until the Queen had asked her for a data pad. She had stepped forward to pass it over, then returned to her place. She had glanced up just once, and had met Daedrin's piercing stare. A little shocked that one of the senators should still be looking at her, she had swiftly dropped her gaze and had kept it lowered for the duration of the meeting. The following day they had returned to Naboo, and the encounter had all but faded from her mind.

"I don't understand why," she murmured. "We never even spoke, it was...just nothing. It was nothing!"

Luma shook her head. "Syrena, you are a very beautiful young woman. I don't like the thought of you wasting your youth in service to the Queen."

A chill travelled the length of Sabé's spine. She hadn't considered that she would be giving up her career too. It was unfair. It was _wrong_. A flare of anger ignited as she considered what they were asking her to do. No, not asking. They hadn't done her the courtesy of asking. She stared at the cerulean carpet, trying to draw some measure of calm from the peaceful colour. She would find a way out of her parents' proposition, no matter what it took. It was unacceptable that she should be forced to give up her lifestyle, her job, her home, to give herself to a virtual stranger. To begin with, she would have to pretend to agree to it, to give herself room to escape and work out the rest. She needed a proper plan.

Lifting her chin, keeping her tone level, she asked, "What exactly do I get out of this? Just out of interest."

Her parents exchanged a glance. She detected the beginnings of triumph in their expressions, buried under a heap of wariness that she knew they were wise to feel.

"Senator Daedrin isn't one of the most eligible bachelors in the Senate for no reason, Syrena," her mother began. "He's rich, so he could provide for you easily. You'd be far safer with him than you are working as a bodyguard. I've heard that his hobbies include music and visiting the theatre, so that shows a pleasing amount of sensitivity, don't you think?"

"I guess," Sabé mumbled, finding the reasons too vague for comfort.

"Plus there'd be your position, as we said, married to someone so influential and astute," Jago added. "And if it turns out that Chancellor Palpatine is corrupt, well, then it's your duty to help us expose him."

The duty card. It hadn't taken them long to play that one. Sabé took her duty at the palace very seriously, and had a reputation for her unwavering loyalty. But that was duty to her monarch, to her planet. It meant something. It was so vastly different to the apparent 'duty' they were suggesting.

She'd heard enough. She gave a great sigh, drawing out a thoughtful pause. "I suppose," she conceded, lacing the appropriate reluctance through her tone. Pasting an expression of regret on her face she added, "Look, I'm sorry I reacted strongly to this, but it just came from nowhere. I didn't even know you were considering marriage. Surely you can understand that it'll take some getting used to."

Jago nodded. "Of course. Perhaps we should have involved you earlier."

"I need time to think about this. I'd like to go home for an hour and speak to Padmé. She knows Senator Daedrin better than I do. Then I'll return and we can talk again."

Her parents exchanged another look. They knew as well as she did that she didn't have a choice in the matter. The entire conversation had been nothing but a formality.

"Humour me," she said. "Please."

Jago sat back in his seat, his stern countenance already telling her what his answer would be. "If you need some time, by all means use the lounge or the garden. But we'd like to get this matter settled before you leave."

Knowing that it would be unwise to push them, Sabé nodded. "I see. I'll do that then."

Rising from her chair, she gave them both a nod before heading out into the garden. The fresh, warm air calmed her, but she felt no more in control than she had in the study. Tears of anger and disappointment cut paths down her cheeks, and she dashed them away crossly. She was finding it difficult to see her parents' point of view. Whichever way she considered it, it seemed a vastly selfish move on their part. In her opinion, parents were supposed to make sacrifices for their children, not the other way around. She admitted that in their own way, they probably thought they knew what was best for her. Or at least, that was what they were telling themselves. For her part, Sabé was struggling to comprehend how her parents could possibly think it was all right to organise her entire life for her just because a vastly outdated law allowed it.

Making her way to the very end of the garden, she hid herself behind the ornamental shrubs. There was a single stone bench there, facing the fish pond, and she sat down on it heavily, propping her chin on her hand. She watched the fish swim endless circuits, with nothing more to worry about than which direction to drift next. Wondering what that must be like, she brooded about the difficulty she found herself in. She wasn't going to marry Daedrin. She was determined on that point. She just didn't know how to avoid it. Yet.

Her thoughts turned to Padmé, one of her oldest friends, and Sabé wondered what she would do given the same situation. Digging in the pocket of her dress, she smiled to herself as she located her holo projector, thanking the gods that she'd picked it up before she'd left her room. There was only one way to find out what Padmé would advise, and that was to simply ask her.

Punching in her friend's frequency, she waited only a few moments before Padmé's tiny, fuzzy blue image materialised above the disc, her hand outstretched as she held her own holo projector.

"Sabé!" she began, smiling. "You know I love hearing from you but the Senate session is due to resume in five minutes. Can it wait?"

"No!" Sabé burst out. "It can't wait, but I'll be quick."

Padmé immediately sobered. "What is it?"

"What do you know of Quaine Daedrin of Axum?"

"Not a lot," the senator said with a shrug. "He's a skilled diplomat, but some of his ideas are a little extreme. Why?"

"My parents want me to marry him," Sabé told her, managing to keep her voice surprisingly level. "They just told me about it now, it's already agreed."

Padmé's shock was evident even over the holo. "Oh…that's…wow, that's so fast."

Sabé nodded her agreement, shifting on the bench. "What do I do? How can I get out of it?"

"I…don't know. I'm sorry, Sabé, I…have no idea." Her friend shrugged again, helplessly.

"If I run away there's always a chance that they'll find me, then I'll be back where I started."

"You could…marry someone else," Padmé suggested, her tone betraying her uncertainty. She was always loath to recommend the devious way out of problems, preferring to be upfront and above board. But despite that, she never failed to find solutions, even if they sometimes involved a little deviousness.

"Marry someone else?" Sabé repeated, unsure whether to laugh or start an immediate search. "Padmé! I don't exactly have a line of suitors at the door. And besides, that still wouldn't solve the problem of me giving up my job."

"There must be someone you can strike a deal with. Someone you can marry in name who would let you go your own way. That way you could stay on Naboo."

Sabé gave a quiet, thoughtful huff, pursing her lips. "Honestly…I'm not sure I want to."

The moment the words were out, she realised she absolutely meant them. Despite lamenting that her parents' decisions affected her life in ways she didn't want, she wasn't sure she could go back to things as they were. She hadn't yet allowed herself to fully comprehend just how hurt she was, knowing that it would make her too emotional, too distracted. Until she figured out a way to avoid the marriage, she needed to keep a clear head. Still, she knew she'd have to face it eventually.

"I…I don't really know what I'm going to do," she went on. "But now…suddenly the palace doesn't feel far away enough."

Padmé tilted her head sympathetically, her gaze resting on her outstretched hand. On handheld holo projectors, eye lines rarely matched up, but Sabé appreciated the sentiment anyway.

"Well," Padmé said pensively, "Captain Typho _has_ been asking me to employ another handmaiden. I've been putting it off…you know…since Cordé. I told him I could manage with Moteé and Teckla."

"Can you?"

She was fairly sure where the conversation was headed, and she didn't want Padmé offering jobs that weren't legitimately available. Her friend was always careful with her allocated budget, but Sabé knew an additional wage being paid out would be a strain.

" _I_ can manage, yes," Padmé told her, "but sometimes I think _they_ would benefit from there being another handmaiden around. I think they struggle with security cover sometimes, especially when I travel, and I know it isn't easy for them when one of them has time off. The Queen would prefer me to have three anyway. She says it looks better." Padmé pulled a face, as if she didn't think the Queen's reasoning mattered much. "I can request a transfer, if you want. I'd be happy to have you in my service again."

Sabé managed a half-smile. "Just like old times? Thanks. I'll think about it."

"I have to go," Padmé said, annoyed. "But I'd like to talk more about this. Why don't you come and stay for a few days? I'll speak to the Queen and see if she'll let you take a leave of absence. We can figure something out."

Sabé wanted nothing more than a chance to escape for a while, and seized upon the opportunity. "Thank you, I think I will. If nothing else it will keep me from killing my parents. Murder is still illegal, right?"

"Last time I checked," Padmé replied dryly, looking at something over her shoulder. "Okay, I really do need to go. Keep me updated," she ordered before her image faded.

Sabé pocketed her holo projector, mind full. She'd quipped about not killing her parents, pretending, (either to Padmé or herself, and she wasn't sure which), that she could deal with it lightly. Nothing could be further from the truth. They'd disrupted everything in the course of one conversation. Every time she thought she had a grasp of just how much, she thought of something else. She felt a little better for talking to Padmé. The senator had a way of making all problems seem fixable, but regardless of that, she was no nearer to a real, feasible solution.

'Marry someone else,' Padmé had said, as if it were a simple matter. The only men she knew well were all guards at the palace, and since the law had been created to boost the population, same-sex alliances weren't valid, and wouldn't be a solid enough counter against it. She wouldn't trust any of her colleagues to be willing to go against the wishes of Jago and Luma Simmonite. Her parents didn't quite have Padmé's fame and reverence, but they were well-respected at the palace.

She was beginning to lose hope already, yet felt desperate to hold on to what she had left of it. Panic hovered not far away, a worrying, alien sensation, and she did her best to keep it at arm's length. She was trained to deal with every situation with a cool and level head, which she frequently did, but this was too personal, too…different. She didn't know what to do, or how to fight it. The flutter of alarm in her stomach made her feel nauseous, weak. She _hated_ that.

There came a crunch of gravel on the path, and Sabé automatically straightened up, calming herself, unwilling to show how worried she was. The steps were light. Not her father then, but neither did they sound like Luma. That just left…

Sabé glanced up, not too surprised to see her sister, Idriel, round the corner.

"Ah," she said in cynical greeting, the sarcasm keeping her voice steady. "Youngest daughter doesn't like the idea of an arranged marriage, let's wheel out the married daughter to persuade her how good it is."

"Nobody wheeled me out," Idriel stated, sitting down on the bench with all the grace and elegance that had come naturally to her, but that Sabé had had to learn. "Mother and Father asked me yesterday if I would–"

"Wait," Sabé interrupted. "You knew about this _yesterday_?"

"No, Syrena, that was what I was about to say," Idriel retorted irritably. "I was asked to come over, but I've only just found out why."

Calming her spiky temper, Sabé nodded. "And? Thoughts?"

Idriel considered, her expression calm and thoughtful. They were very similar to look at, but Idriel was clearly the elder of the two, a fact that she was always aware of and irked by. They had the same dark eyes, the same narrow nose and angular jaw line, the same long, gently waved hair, but where Sabé's was dark and generally untameable, Idriel's was the same honey-blonde as Luma's, and always impeccably styled.

"I admit I was surprised," Idriel said at length. "You've never seemed the marrying kind."

"I'm not."

"What, not at all? Or just not Senator Daedrin?"

Sabé sighed softly. The topic seemed trivial, but it was helping her keep her focus. "I'm not saying that that isn't something I would like, one day. Maybe. But not like this. Not with a man I barely know to forward the careers of my parents."

"It might turn out to be the best move you ever made," Idriel suggested, shrugging.

"Do you really believe that, or is that just what they told you to say?"

"I'm just putting a positive spin on it. You never know, you and Senator Daedrin might get along well together. Marriage might suit you, as it does me."

"You chose it though," Sabé countered. "You chose Jensen and he chose you. That's how it's supposed to work."

"I chose it, yes, but that doesn't mean I didn't make changes. I was set to be a literary student, remember? On Coruscant. I gave that up to stay here and marry Jensen, and I don't regret it."

A brief silence fell. Sabé wondered how true her sister's statement was, whether she did regret it, just a little. She didn't push the matter though. Idriel had never been particularly open about things that bothered her, a trait she'd no doubt inherited from Jago. It had made it difficult for them to be close while they were growing up. Idriel's emotional distance, plus their eight year age gap, hadn't exactly made for a bond of eternal friendship. By the time Sabé was old enough to really be a companion to her sister, Idriel was more interested in studying and boys. An unusual combination, but one that worked for her.

Idriel had married Jensen and moved out of their parents' house, and Sabé had become a handmaiden, taking a room at the palace. They had grown even more apart, not friends exactly, but not estranged either. They were civil to each other, and fond of one another in a detached kind of way. Family was family, but Sabé would always be closer to the friends she'd made during those early days at the palace: Padmé, first and foremost, and Gregar Typho, a fellow officer who currently served as Padmé's chief of security.

"So," Idriel said, breaking through her thoughts, "when is the wedding?"

Sabé couldn't help pulling a childish face in distaste. "I don't know."

Lowering her voice, Idriel asked, "Are you going to go through with it?"

Sabé glanced at her, surprised that she would ask, immediately suspicious that her parents were using her sister as a spy. Idriel certainly wouldn't help her get out of it, she knew that for sure. Like many others, she respected their parents' position too much.

"What choice do I have?" Sabé said rhetorically. "It's the law."

Idriel nodded in agreement, and they sat in a heavy silence that dragged and felt awkward. She didn't ask any more questions, and Sabé assumed that she'd gotten the answers she was sent out for.

"So, do you have any news?" Sabé put forward eventually.

A wide, radiant smile blossomed on her sister's face. "Actually, I do. Jensen and I are expecting a baby."

Sabé grinned, genuinely pleased for her, and pleased to see her so happy. "Idriel, that's wonderful. I'm going to be an auntie! I can teach them all sorts, like how to shoot, how to defend themselves, how to-"

"Don't you dare!" Idriel exclaimed. "You will take them to holo movies and babysit, that's all!"

"So no blasters as birthday presents?"

"Definitely not!"

They shared a giggle, enjoying the rare moment of harmony, but then Idriel spoiled it by saying, "You may have one of your own in a year or so."

Sabé sobered immediately. Another reason why she had to get out of the marriage. She didn't want children. She knew she might change her mind if she ever found the right person, but as things were she was adamant that she didn't want them.

Unwilling to have that conversation, she uttered a vague, "Maybe."

The garden suddenly seemed like a detention yard, and she couldn't wait to get back to her room at the palace. Her fight or flight instinct was clamouring for attention, and she quieted it by reminding herself that tomorrow she would fly to Coruscant, to her allies: her friends.

She stood up abruptly, causing Idriel to raise her eyebrows in mild surprise.

"I should go and speak to Mother and Father," she told her. "Get this matter settled. I'm sure they'd rather talk about the baby with you."

"We have seven more months to talk about the baby," Idriel said with a smile, getting to her feet. "This takes priority."

They walked back through the garden in silence, Sabé still unsure of her sister's true opinion of the arranged marriage. She studied their approaching reflection in the large windows that formed the entire back wall of the apartment. One golden head, one dark. One tall and elegant, the other walking with a melancholy slouch. Idriel's gown was plainer in style, but the fabric was more decorative. Sabé's was in-keeping with palace fashions, and had draping, layered sleeves and a sweeping neckline, but the colours were plain and her belt was practical. Just like when they were children, they couldn't be more different if they tried.

Seated back on the chair in Jago's office, Idriel hovering diplomatically behind, Sabé faced her parents with a sombre, contrite expression.

"I'm sorry if you feel I've been difficult about this," she began, her tone rather formal as she attempted to get the speech out, "but you must understand that marriage wasn't something I was thinking of for myself. Not right now. Maybe not ever. I can't say that I'm happy about your decision, and I wish you'd talked to me sooner. That said, I appreciate that you are within your rights according to the law." She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "If I am to marry Senator Daedrin, I would like the opportunity to get to know him better. I've spoken to Padmé, and she's offered to let me stay with her for a few days, so I'll be flying to Coruscant in the morning. I intend to meet Senator Daedrin while I'm away, if he can spare the time."

Her parents exchanged a look, and Sabé knew at once that she'd hit the right tone of reluctant acceptance. She tried to keep her relief from showing on her face.

"That sounds like a good idea," Luma said. To her credit, her smile was gentle and not overbearingly victorious. Sabé realised that that was for her benefit.

She nodded, and rose to her feet. "I'd better go and pack. Padmé said she'd clear my absence with the Queen, but I'd like to speak to her myself as well."

"Of course."

"This is going to be a wonderful opportunity for you, Syrena," Jago added.

She didn't trust herself to say any more, so she simply nodded again, turning to leave. Idriel followed her to the door, surprising her by pulling her into a brief hug.

"I know you don't want this," her sister muttered in her ear, "but try to make the best of it, okay? Things have a way of turning out."

"I hope you're right," she said truthfully.

Idriel let her go, studying her face with a faintly calculating air. Sabé had no intention of confiding in her. She was convinced that whatever she said would make its way back to her parents. So she smiled as best as she was able, and said goodbye. Her added congratulations wiped the doubt from her sister's face, replacing it with a beaming smile. Seizing her opportunity, Sabé slipped out the door.

She felt better for being outside in the late afternoon sunlight, but everything seemed suddenly oppressive. Not caring about who saw her, she began running for the palace, her skirts held up in one hand, her elegant shoes constantly reminding her that they were not made for dashing about. Disregarding years of etiquette training, she pelted up the steps and through the corridors, finally reaching the privacy of her small suite of rooms. Leaning back against the door that slid mercifully closed on the world, she simply stood there, breathing heavily.

She tilted her spinning head back, resting it against the door, hating the way she felt. She was a security officer, a soldier, trained to fight battles and eliminate threats. She was comfortable with that. But this…this was a problem she couldn't fight, not in the way she knew how. And that made her incredibly uneasy.

"But that's why you're going to see Padmé," she told herself aloud. "This is her kind of battle."

Moving away from the door, she kicked off her shoes and plopped down on her desk chair. She really did need to pack and speak to the Queen, but her motivation had momentarily stepped out. Her biggest worry was that 'marry someone else' would be the extent of Padmé's plan. That seemed an impossible task, and she wasn't sure that it would be any better than marrying Daedrin. It would be her choice, that was a plus, but other than that… Padmé could work to overturn the law in her professional capacity, but Sabé knew that that would take months, maybe even years. She needed a quicker solution.

The blinking light on her data pad drew her attention, showing a new message. It was a letter from Obi-Wan Kenobi. Momentarily sidetracked, surprised by his quick reply, she accessed it.

_Dear Sabé,_

_This is just to inform you that I too have nothing of any merit to say. I suppose the letters will be incessantly boring from this point on. Ah well._

_Your true friend,_

_Obi-Wan Kenobi._

_P.S. Only joking. Proper reply coming in a day or two._

She chuckled, archiving the message. When she'd first met him, she would never have guessed that he had a sense of humour. He'd been so serious, so intense in everything he did. It was strange sometimes to think that the man she was friends with was the same solemn Jedi Padawan she'd temporarily fooled into thinking she was the Queen. She wondered if he'd have any advice to offer about her dilemma, or whether such a problem – so far removed from what the Jedi usually had to deal with – would stump him.

Steering her thoughts back on track, she stood up and headed to the fresher. If she was going to speak to Queen Neeyutnee she needed to be tidy. Five minutes with a comb and a handful of hairpins did the trick.

Sabé knew the Queen's schedule like the back of her hand, and knew exactly when she could steal a few minutes of her time. She didn't anticipate any hiccups with her time off. The Queen was young, only fifteen years old, and treated Padmé with the familiar reverence that the senator frequently got from her people. She often took Padmé's advice when it was offered, and was wont to do her a favour if asked.

As predicted, Sabé was granted her week's leave. The Queen had spoken to Padmé already, and had been expecting her request. The meeting was over within five minutes, and Sabé headed back to her room to pack.

As she worked, methodically sorting what she needed, her mind turned over everything that had happened that day. Padmé's earlier phrase 'marry someone else' kept making its presence known, playing over and over in her head until she was ready to scream. She was sure that the answer could never be that simple, and so to have it repeated as a constant reminder of unhelpful advice was more than a little annoying. She wondered if Padmé would expect her to advertise.

_Wanted: One partner for marriage of convenience. Must be willing to have no involvement in wife's life whatsoever._

She gave an unladylike snort. It was absurd. It was _all_ absurd. If only she could bring herself to laugh at it.

With reluctance, she was starting to think that maybe Padmé _was_ on the right track after all. Marrying someone else, on her own terms, might be the only quick solution that gave her a chance of retaining some normality. But like she'd said when the point was initially raised, a partner willing to marry her just to get her out of her parents' arrangement was not going to be easy to find.

And then, out of the blue, a phrase from the letter she'd read floated back to her.

_Your true friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi._

Sabé halted her packing, her heart racing, wondering if she dared ask… He was a noble and loyal man who had been her friend for eleven steady years. She trusted him completely. The fact that he was a Jedi was a complication, but one that could work to her advantage. A Jedi had no interest in marriage. Logically, they would be more open to the suggestion of a marriage in name only, and wouldn't ask her for things she was not willing to give. She knew that the Jedi Council had been known to grant permission for marriages in extreme circumstances. Sabé wasn't sure that she qualified as one of those, but she was willing to try. She _had_ to try.

A flicker of optimism made its way cautiously into her thoughts. It was crazy. It was the craziest plan she'd ever formulated, but so far, it was her best hope. Sabé glanced up from the gown she was folding, meeting her own gaze in the mirror. Her dark eyes were wide, her lips pressed tightly together in stubborn-yet-apprehensive determination. She would do it. She would fly to Coruscant, she would walk into the Temple, and she would ask a Jedi Master to marry her. And she would hope to the gods that he said yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: OC fan casts for those who are interested:
> 
> Jago - Jeremy Irons  
> Luma - Greta Scacchi  
> Idriel - Blonde Lena Headey
> 
> Next update should hopefully be in about two weeks, we'll see how we go.


	4. Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello and welcome to chapter four. I have nothing much else to say because I'm melting. The UK has gone kind of crazy and we don't have air con here :/

**Chapter Four – Flight.**

 

After a less restful night than she would have liked, Sabé was up at first light packing the last of her belongings for the week ahead. The fight or flight instinct that she'd felt at her parents' apartment was still hovering irritatingly at the back of her mind, and she hoped that leaving Naboo sooner rather than later would quiet it. 

One of the privileges of being a handmaiden was free use of the royal starfighters. Sabé fully intended to take advantage of it, and made a detour to Captain Panaka's office to sign one out. Her superior officer was not yet on duty, but she wasn't surprised to see him sitting at his desk anyway, his usual cup of caf in front of him. The man gave a whole new meaning to being dedicated to the job. 

"So," he began without preamble, "you're flying off for a week?" 

Disapproval emanated from him in waves: in his voice, in his folded arms and stern frown, in his severe, clear gaze as he studied her. 

Sabé had known him for years, and was well aware that his bark was worse than his bite. 

"I cleared it with the Queen," she told him placidly, filling out the relevant flimsi forms. 

"I am your superior, Sabé, you should have cleared it with _me_."

She didn't argue, because she knew he had a point. It had slipped her mind in the madness of the previous day. It was unfortunate but understandable, she thought. Explaining it, however, would be a waste of time. Panaka didn't do sympathy, especially where his officers were involved. 

"Next time I will," she said. She didn't smile, because he'd think she was playing him, but she shot him a companionable nod. 

"Hmph," he grunted.

Sabé bit her lip to keep from smiling. She knew her almost-impeccable record was the only thing keeping him from ranting at her. That, and the fact that he hadn't touched his morning caf yet. 

They sat in silence while Sabé completed the form, Panaka making slow but steady progress on his beverage. 

"I want that starfighter back in one piece," he barked at her, his way of letting her know that they were okay. 

Sabé nodded. "Yes, sir." 

"See you in a week." 

She did smile then, because despite his grumpiness, she was fond of him. "See you in a week." 

"And tell that nephew of mine to call once in a while. I'm starting to forget what he looks like." 

Sabé agreed, not hiding her amusement. She handed him one copy of her form, then made her way out of the palace, hearing it start to awaken as she walked the corridors. The hangar wasn't far, less than five minutes away. As she started down the palace steps, she noted the unusual quiet of the streets, clear of tourists and commuters. Only market traders were about so early in the morning, already busy setting up their stalls. Through the comparative emptiness, the approaching figures of her parents stood out jarringly. 

Taken aback, Sabé halted on the steps, their unexpected presence there unnerving her. They only came to the palace on political business, and she knew full well that the Queen wouldn't be receiving anyone until later in the morning. 

She walked down to greet them, trying to keep the majority of her surprise from her voice. “Mother, Father, what are you doing here?”

“We came to say goodbye,” Luma explained with a tight smile. 

Sabé resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her parents had picked a spectacularly inconvenient time to take an interest in her life. It was ironic really. When she was younger she would have given anything for them to visit her simply to bid her farewell, but now she just wanted her solitude back. 

“Oh…” she muttered, trailing off. “Um…goodbye.” 

“It’s very early to be setting off, isn’t it?” Her mother glanced around, as if to illustrate her point with the lack of people on the streets. 

Sabé had hoped to make a clean getaway. She hated the thought that she was predictable, especially to Jago and Luma, who’d never appeared to really pay attention to any of her habits and traits.

“I want to make the most of my free time,” Sabé explained. It was partially true. “Besides, I’m hardly going to meet Senator Daedrin like this.” She gestured to her pilot’s uniform: smart, practical, and the exact opposite of what Luma classed as appropriate attire for charming suitors. “I don’t know when I might see him, so I thought I’d give myself plenty of time to freshen up and relax at Padmé’s first.” 

“I’m glad you brought that up,” her father put in. “We spoke to Senator Daedrin after you left yesterday.”

“Oh?” said Sabé, the familiar sinking feeling already making itself known. 

“He wondered if you’d meet him for lunch.”

“Today?”

“Today.” Jago peered at her as she scrambled for a suitable response. “You do still plan on seeing him, don’t you?”

“Of course!” she exclaimed, going a little overboard on the brightness. Inwardly wincing, she toned it down. “That’s the whole point of the trip, after all. Where and when should I meet him?”

All visible signs of suspicion fading from his face, her father seemed to relax. “In the main foyer of the Senate at noon.”

Sabé nodded automatically. “Right. Thank you for, um, coming to tell me." Suddenly desperate to be away, she flashed a quick smile and continued down the steps. "I’d better get going. I'll see you when I get back.” 

She knew her hasty departure was less than subtle, but she couldn't bring herself to care. If her parents were wary they didn’t appear to show it, and said a hurried goodbye before letting her go. Sabé had absolutely no intention of meeting Senator Daedrin at noon, and she hoped that she’d managed to keep that fact from Jago and Luma. 

She met no one else on the street, and the hangar was blissfully empty too. Social interaction wasn’t one of her priorities right then and there, a fact that the brief conversation with her parents had clarified. The droid in the security booth accepted her sign out form, pointing out which one-seater ship she was allocated. Happy to concentrate on something that was less self-involved than her concerns of the past day, Sabé began running through the pre-flight checklist, making sure the ship was in good enough condition to get her to Coruscant. It was purely routine. Every vehicle in the palace hangar was checked and serviced on a regular basis, with even the smallest faults dealt with. Sabé did not expect trouble from her ship, and so was not surprised to find that everything was pristine.

After stowing her small suitcase in the luggage compartment, she climbed the short ladder to the cockpit to run through the system checks. It was tedious, but necessary. The monitor flashed up a series of reports, accompanied by green symbols that indicated how well everything was working. Sabé let it get on with it, looking out of the viewport at the hangar’s vast expanse. She remembered a time long ago when she’d crossed the dark, polished floor towards the royal cruiser, surrounded by battle droids and hostages. She’d been dressed as a queen, feeling like an anxious imposter, only slightly reassured by the presence of the Jedi leading the way ahead. Obi-Wan had been nothing but a nameless apprentice who’d leapt from the sky to her rescue, and had gone striding off to free the pilots with enviable calm. Would he react with that same calm when she told him her plan? Or would he call her selfish and refuse his help? She thought the latter option was unlikely, but somehow she couldn’t quite shake off her apprehension. 

The sound of the hangar doors sliding open jolted her out of her reflections. Two men entered, dressed in matching blue flightsuits, each carrying a bag. They paused to talk to the droid in security. Sabé couldn’t hear what they were saying, but their bright, cheerful tones echoed across the room, drawing a cynical groan from her. She was in an exceptionally grumpy mood that morning. 

The monitor displayed the last of the pre-flight reports, and she cleared the screen. After searching the cockpit for a helmet, she eventually spotted it hanging on a hook on the wall below. With a put-upon sigh, she scrambled back down the ladder, snatching the helmet with more force than was necessary. The two men passed her as she was adjusting the chin strap, the nearest one giving her a polite nod of acknowledgement. She returned it with a brief smile. Her red and grey uniform clearly identified her as a royal security officer, and she valued their reputation too much to impose her grouchiness on a couple of innocent strangers. 

As they passed, she saw the man who had nodded to her exchange a pointed look with his companion. Sabé halted, one foot on the ladder, her eyes narrowed as she watched them. Being a bodyguard made her naturally suspicious, a trait that paid off when lives were at stake, but could get tiresome in everyday life. She watched as the two started preparations for their own ship. They paid her no more attention, nor even looked in her direction. Chances were they were just going about their business. Unless they were ignoring her on purpose to appear normal. 

Cautiously, keeping on eye on them, she ascended to the cockpit once more. Her nerves were already a little more frayed than usual, and she was afraid that she was reacting with paranoia more than instinct. She was done with her pre-flight checks, and there was no way they’d be able to follow her through hyperspace. Forcing herself to relax, Sabé put them out of mind and fired up the engines. 

She let the autopilot fly her out of the hangar, taking control to guide the ship into orbit. A cluster of hyperspace rings floated there, and she headed towards a compatible one. Punching the coordinates into the nav computer, Sabé made the first jump, watching the stars turn to bright streaks through the canopy. 

The journey through hyperspace gave her opportunity to think, to let in the concerns and doubts that she’d managed to keep at bay all morning: namely the fact that she was on her way to carry out the most desperate, half-formed, unlikely plan that she’d ever had the misfortune to be the author of. She knew she was running away, and it didn't sit well with her, going against her training as a bodyguard. As she'd reflected before, an arranged marriage was an unexpected setback that she didn't know how to fight. If she was in a generous mood, she would have said that she was beating a strategic retreat, not running away. But it certainly _felt_ like running away. 

In her periods of wakefulness during the night, she’d struggled to understand her parents’ line of thought, trying unsuccessfully to find one redeeming aspect of their decision. She’d always gone her own way: taken what jobs she wanted, dated who she wanted, taken on basic training with the Order of Sanctuary, accepted their invitation to be a fully-fledged member, then joined the Palace Guard as a handmaiden. Although there’d been disagreements and protests along the way, Jago and Luma had never stooped so low as to actually interfere in her life. The fact that they would do so now, and with something so important and life-altering, left her bewildered and hurt. She just couldn’t comprehend their lack of respect for her choices, her wishes. Sabé wasn’t used to feeling as if what she wanted didn’t matter. 

She watched the pale rush of stars outside the viewport, feeling her anger burn in her chest. She would get out of it somehow, if not with Obi-Wan’s help, then with someone’s. But the damage had already been done. Whether she was victorious or not, her life would be inescapably changed. She had already decided to accept Padmé’s job offer. After she’d sorted out the Daedrin problem, she would swap Naboo for Coruscant. She wouldn’t avoid her parents completely, she knew that. They were Padmé’s liaisons after all, but there would be less need to see them in person, and she could easily miss their conference calls. 

The introspection was making her melancholy, and she turned her attention to other things, _anything_. For the remainder of the journey she spent her time thinking up ridiculous names to suggest to Idriel for the baby, singing cheerful songs out loud and judging how out of tune she was, and trying to predict just how mad Panaka would be when he heard she was leaving the Queen’s service. 

All in all, the flight to the capital was trouble-free, and she was able to make a timely arrival. She’d cleared her ETA with Padmé, making her friend aware that she wanted to leave Naboo as early as possible. With the time difference and the length of the journey, Padmé wasn’t too inconvenienced. 

Sabé spotted a speeder below as she approached the landing platform. She guided her ship in, landing neatly in the designated area in the centre of the platform. Shutting the system down, she opened the canopy, and was immediately hit by a wave of cold air and disruptive noise.

_Welcome to Coruscant,_ she thought wryly, climbing out on to the ladder. 

“Hello, stranger,” came a familiar voice, a voice that she’d missed more than she’d realised. 

She turned her head, a grin spreading wide. “Gregar!” she cried, the word muffled by her helmet. 

He stood below, garbed as always in his captain’s uniform, and, as always, looking more comfortable in it than anyone else she knew. He was grinning too, his single good eye flashing a spark of amusement. 

“Say again?” he quipped. 

Sabé tugged off the helmet, dropping it onto the seat, and shut the canopy before jumping the final few steps of the ladder. She ran the short distance, leaping into his arms, knocking his hat askew. He grunted, then laughed, lifting her off her feet just because he could. 

“It’s so good to see you,” she said sincerely, hugging him tightly. 

“Were you always this heavy?”

“Shut up!” 

He let her down, and they drew apart. Dark-olive-skinned, good-looking, his black hair cut short for practicality, he stood half a head taller than Sabé. He was stocky, built powerfully, another graduate of his uncle Panaka's demanding training. A silver patch covered where his left eye was missing, and his right eye was often the only clue to his innermost thoughts, the rest hidden behind a stoic mask. Sabé studied him, noting the differences from the last time she’d seen him. He seemed tired, and not just in the sense that he was probably not getting enough sleep, but a deep, down-to-the-marrow weariness. She knew why. A year ago, Padmé had married Anakin Skywalker in secret, subjecting Gregar to a lifetime of knowing that the woman he loved had chosen someone else. 

He sent her a little smile of acknowledgement as she finished her appraisal. She’d always been able to read him, and he knew that. That was partly why she’d become, and remained, his closest confidant. 

“Thank you for coming to meet me,” Sabé said. “I’m surprised Padmé could spare you.”

“We both thought you’d want to see a familiar face,” he explained. “She didn’t want to draw too much attention to your arrival. The HoloNet crews have been following her for a week.”

Sabé frowned, folding her arms. “Why is that?” 

Gregar wrinkled his nose, his expression all ridicule and contempt. “Because she debuted a new dress at a charity function.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yup.” 

Sabé rolled her eyes. “Don’t people have better things to be worried about? I mean, there is a war on.”

Gregar gave a shrug, still looking aggravated at the whole situation. “Apparently not. It’s damned annoying. I never know if the people stalking her are assassins or journalists, and it’s illegal to shoot the latter. Allegedly. I doubt anyone would really complain.” 

“Gregar Typho, you’re turning into your uncle,” she told him in mock seriousness. 

While there were similarities in their professional demeanours, Gregar had a long way to go before he matched Panaka in brusqueness, irritability, and sheer obstinacy.

He fixed her with a narrow-eyed look, not rising to her gentle teasing. She chuckled. 

“Have you missed me?” she asked sweetly. 

“Not really,” he said wryly, earning a whack on the arm. 

She hadn’t hit him hard, and he didn’t even bother pretending that it affected him, shooting her an impish grin. 

Sabé headed back to the ship to retrieve her bag, blowing tendrils of hair out of her face. The helmet had all but destroyed the bun she’d hastily constructed that morning. Gregar took the bag from her, and they walked to the speeder together. As they went, he slung an arm across her shoulders in an awkward hug.

“It hasn’t been the same without you around,” he admitted. 

She sent him a smile, more grateful to be back with him, and soon with Padmé too, than she could put into words. 

“How are things?” she asked, as they got settled in the speeder. “You know, with you?” 

Gregar pulled a face, negotiating away from the landing platform and into the streams of traffic. “How you would expect, I guess.”

Sabé didn’t press him to elaborate. She could imagine the anguish he dealt with, seeing Padmé every day and having to maintain distance, not only out of professional propriety, but because she was a married woman. 

“Must be difficult,” she mumbled, because she felt obliged to say something. 

“And then some.” 

“Have you ever thought about leaving?” She glanced at him, studying his profile. His expression was neutral, but she wasn't fooled. “It would be…kinder. Easier. You’d be able to move on.” 

“I could never leave her,” he stated quietly. “Even if I can’t be with her, I can make sure she’s safe. It…comforts me to know that. Despite…despite whatever pain it causes me.”

Sabé looked ahead, staring into the tail light of the vehicle in front. “Is it…” She paused, considering the question, half afraid to ask, not wanting to somehow make it worse. “Is it very bad?” 

Gregar gave a single bark of humourless laughter. “It’s torture,” he told her, his voice unnaturally blank. 

Sabé reached out a hand, covering his where it rested on the speeder controls. She had no words, just silent support. 

He acknowledged it with a quick smile before becoming sombre once more. “Seriously, Sabé…I…I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. I hope to the gods that you never have to go through anything like this.”

“Me? Oh, I’ll be fine,” she reassured. “I’m too cold-hearted to fall in love.” 

“Don’t joke, I meant that.”

Sabé squeezed his hand before drawing hers back. “I know,” she said softly. “But your situation is fairly unique. I know it doesn’t make it any easier, but I’m pretty sure it’s true. And with regards to me, well…I’ve not yet found the time for love, and I doubt that’ll change any time soon.” 

Some of his levity returning, Gregar shot her a glance. “That’s sad. You never know.” 

He guided the speeder out of the lane it was in, veering off towards the Senate Apartment Complex where Padmé’s penthouse home awaited. 

Sabé laughed, but the wind snatched it away. “I love you, and I love Padmé. That’s more than enough to be going around for now.” 

“That’s not the same, and you know it.” 

“Well, I don’t…it’s…" She gave a short, irritated huff. "Oh, stop it, Gregar, this isn’t about me.” 

They joined the line of vehicles waiting to park in the sprawling lot beneath the complex, and Sabé tucked her wayward hair behind her ears. 

Gregar shot her a look, raising one slanting eyebrow. “It’s _all_ about you, that’s why you’re here.”

She gave a huff. She’d been enjoying discussing other things, despite learning of her friend’s pain. Being reminded of why she was there sobered her. 

“Of course,” she murmured, her tone betraying all her anxiety and reluctance.

She just caught his sympathetic look out of the corner of her eye. “It will be okay,” he said warmly, and she almost believed him. 

“Guess we’ll see,” she put in noncommittally, half hoping it would be a conversation stopper. 

They sat in silence as Gregar parked the speeder in the private bay allocated to Padmé’s apartment. It was one of the perks of being influential enough to rent the penthouse: never having to worry about finding a parking space, and having a turbolift right beside it that went straight to the top floor. 

They got out, rescuing Sabé’s bag from the backseat, and headed towards the turbolift. A droid was working there, sifting through a mass of coloured wires that snaked from the wall panel it had removed. 

“Sorry, sir,” it said as they got closer, “this lift is out of order. Please make your way to the main foyer and take the lifts there.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Gregar barked, wary, as always, of security breaches. “Do my men upstairs know about it?”

“Yes, sir. They were the ones who reported the fault.”

A quick com call upstairs confirmed the droid’s story, and they made their way to the public lifts. Sometimes a broken lift was just a broken lift. 

The main foyer was bustling, a steady stream of residents coming and going, intertwined with the throngs of tourists and visitors. As they crossed to the turbolifts, Sabé caught sight of two men in blue jumpsuits talking to the droid on reception. Her stomach gave a twist as her mind flashed to the men from the hangar on Naboo. Had she been followed? She could only see their backs, but she thought their hair colours were the same. They’d been prepping a larger ship than hers, it wasn’t out of the question that its more advanced hyperspace engines could have brought them to Coruscant in fewer jumps, putting them ahead of her. 

‘You’re paranoid, Sabé,’ she scolded herself internally. ‘Probably just a coincidence, or not even them.’

Keeping her eyes on them as they waited in line, she hoped for some kind of confirmation of her fears, but even when she could see their faces, she wasn’t sure. She wished she’d paid more attention back in the hangar, but she’d been distracted and testy, and hadn’t bothered to commit their faces to memory. She wouldn’t make that schoolgirl error again. 

“What’s up?” Gregar asked, noticing her wary glances.

“Tell you later.” 

“Okay.” 

Both taught by the ever-cautious Panaka, they knew better than to discuss anything but the most trivial gossip in crowded places. 

Gregar fished in a pouch at his belt for his ID. “Do you want us to get a lift to ourselves?” 

“Can you do that?” Sabé questioned sceptically. 

“Don’t know. Let’s try.” 

She followed him through the horde to the turbolift attendant, a stressed-looking Bith who was skilfully keeping things moving as best as he was able. Gregar stepped up to him, flashing his ID card.

“I’m Captain Typho, Senator Amidala’s chief of security,” he introduced. “The lot lift is out of order, any chance the senator’s associate here can take a private lift?” He gestured at Sabé, who drew herself up importantly. 

Dropping Padmé’s name opened a lot of doors. The attendant studied Gregar’s ID, then nodded. 

“Of course, sir. Sorry for the inconvenience, madam,” he added to Sabé. 

“Not a problem,” she said graciously. 

When the turbolift arrived, dropping off two Wookiees and a Bothan, the attendant waved them forward, holding everyone else back. Happy to let him deal with the chorus of irritated protests, Sabé hit the keypad to close the door. 

Gregar put his ID card away, looking impressed. “I wasn’t sure that was going to work. Good to know.” 

Sabé nodded in agreement, lips upturned in a small smirk. “Yes, but I wouldn’t do it too often when escorting women. You’ll get a reputation.” 

He laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that. Hmm…the possibilities.”

She giggled, shaking her head, leaning back against the railing that lined the curved walls. Gregar did the same opposite her, folding his arms.

Sobering again, he asked, “So what was going on with you back there?”

Her smile dropping, Sabé explained about the two men, adding that there was probably nothing in it. The thought that her parents would have her followed seemed absurd, and yet she couldn’t rule it out. With a painful jolt she was reminded that she didn’t trust them, and she wouldn’t put it past them to send someone to keep an eye on her. They had known she was going to Padmé’s apartment, and she hadn’t been at all confident that they had fallen for the sincerity of her agreement to the marriage. Was it really so important to them that she saw Senator Daedrin while she was on Coruscant? 

Even if it turned out not to be the men from the hangar, or if it was a coincidence, she knew she would have to assume otherwise just to be safe. She would have to make the lunch date at noon. 

She pulled a face as she spoke the realisation aloud, guessing that she looked like a child who didn’t want to go to school, judging by the way Gregar tried to hold back a smile. 

“Just think of it as reconnaissance,” the captain suggested. 

Sabé sighed, but nodded. It was a helpful way to look at it. Above the door, the floor numbers flickered past, too fast to register. They were almost at the penthouse. 

“Sabé,” Gregar began, his tone grave yet sincere, “I know what Padmé advised you to do.”

“You mean marry someone else?”

“Yeah.” 

She glanced at him, frowning, taking in his serious expression, the way he seemed slightly conflicted about what he was turning over in his mind. 

Meeting her gaze earnestly, he continued. “I was thinking…it would make sense if…if that person was me.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. She hadn’t been expecting that. 

“We’re friends, you trust me, life would carry on as normal.”

She shook her head, saying gently, “No, Gregar. I appreciate that you would ask…more than you know. But that’s not what you want…you…” She trailed off, unable to find the words. His feelings for Padmé had been obvious to her almost from the first moment they met, and she had a sympathetic respect for that. 

“What I want doesn’t matter,” he said bluntly. He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “No, let me finish. I know what you’re thinking, but it’s irrelevant. She made her choice, and it wasn’t me. Maybe one day I’ll get over that, but it won’t be any time soon. She’s…” He left the sentence incomplete, glancing away as he finished it internally. “I’ll never be free. I’ll always love her, but I know I may as well…love a dream.”

Sabé watched the slideshow of emotions cross his face, wishing there was something she could say to comfort him, but it all seemed hollow. 

“My point is,” he went on, “the woman I love isn’t free, and I can’t see myself wanting anyone else. So if I can help you, then that’s what I want to do.” 

She bit her lip, touched by the thought. “Thank you. I…it means a lot, really. But…I can’t. Padmé would never forgive me.” 

“Padmé doesn’t feel anything for me, if she ever did.” His voice was laced with bitterness. She didn’t blame him for that. 

“I disagree. You _know_ she did.” 

She couldn’t clarify it for him because he refused to see sense. She understood that he was protecting himself from more emotional pain, but it was frustrating nonetheless. Padmé still harboured feelings for him, Sabé was sure of it. They had been there before, and they were there still, despite whatever she felt for Anakin. If Sabé took Gregar up on his offer, regardless of whether it was a marriage in name only, she knew Padmé would be hurt. She attempted to explain her thought process, but she knew he wouldn’t concur, a fact that his expression confirmed as soon as the words were out of her mouth. 

“Look,” she said, trying a different direction, “I have a plan…kind of. There’s someone I’m going to ask for help. I don’t know if he’ll agree, but if he does then I’ll be okay.” 

Gregar pressed his lips together in a hard line of disapproval. Perhaps it was still due to his lack of comprehension of the reason behind her refusal, or perhaps it was the thought of her being potentially reckless. Sabé wasn’t yet ready to share the details to ease his mind. She was too apprehensive about the whole thing. 

They squared off for a moment, staring each other down from opposite sides of the turbolift. Gregar still stern, Sabé more neutral, one eyebrow raised. Before either one could back down, the doors chimed and slid open, revealing the short corridor to Padmé’s apartment door. They broke eye contact and exited the lift, neither willing to travel back downstairs for the sake of stubbornness. 

Sabé headed for the door, but halted when Gregar placed a hand on her arm. She glanced up at him expectantly, meeting his resigned gaze. 

“Okay, look,” he said, conceding with visible reluctance. Still she couldn’t bring herself to tell him he didn’t need to worry. “I trust your judgement. Carry out your plan. I hope it works out. But promise me…if he says no, consider my offer.” 

She nodded, sending him a tiny smile. “I will. Thank you, Gregar.” 

Not for the first time, she wondered what it was that stopped her falling for him. He was so loyal and kind, always putting others, (mainly Padmé, it had to be said), before himself, suffering through pain that could be avoided for the sake of Padmé's safety. He made her laugh, gave her a shoulder to cry on, and she knew that he'd always be there when she needed him. Really, she reflected, she should be head over heels. But their relationship had never turned that way. 

Gregar gave a nod of his own, stepping ahead to press the door chime. Teckla answered it after a few moments, her dark hair hidden by a purple hooded cloak. A handmaiden that Padmé had transferred from Varykino Lodge on Naboo, Teckla had been serving her on Coruscant since the start of the war, following Dormé’s resignation. Sabé didn’t know her very well, and the other woman’s naturally quiet demeanour sometimes made her difficult to talk to, but she was pleasant and good at her job, if lacking the rigorous training that Sabé had received. 

"Welcome, Lady Sabé," Teckla greeted, smiling. "The senator is waiting for you in the lounge. I'll bring some tea shortly." 

"Thank you." 

Sabé and Gregar made their way to the apartment's spacious, terraced lounge, a room dominated by the views through its missing outer wall, the gap covered instead by an almost-invisible force field. The room was all elegant neutral tones, marble floored, with curved sofas surrounding a water feature. Huge drapes hung artistically beside the supporting columns, and two large statues guarded the steps down to the veranda. 

Padmé was there, sitting on one of the sofas, surrounded by data pads and pieces of flimsi. She leapt up when they entered the room, hurrying over to wrap Sabé in a hug. Her smile was a pleasant welcome, despite not being as bright as Sabé remembered. 

“It’s so good to see you!” the senator greeted enthusiastically. 

“You too,” Sabé replied, drawing back to return Padmé's smile. “Thank you so much for letting me stay. I just...I needed to get away.”

“It's fine. Any time." 

Sabé knew she meant that, and she felt a wave of gratitude towards her friend for everything she was doing, and would do, to help her. 

"Come and sit down," Padmé said, gesturing to the sofas. Turning away, she tidied her flimsi sheets into a neat pile, resting the data pads on top. She was casually dressed. By her own standards, that was. Padmé's casual was most other people's well-dressed and sophisticated. She wore a simple dress of olive green, and her dark, wavy hair was loose, held back only by a minimal silver band at her brow. Her face was free of make-up, but looked fresh and beautiful, showing only a trace of the stress and pressure that she constantly carried.

"If you don't need me, M'lady, I'll check on the broken turbolift situation," Gregar cut in. 

Padmé barely glanced his way, agreeing in a flat, formal tone. "Of course. Go ahead, Captain." 

Gregar bowed, despite the senator's turned back, flashed Sabé a tight smile, then departed. 

Sabé inwardly sighed, finding it difficult not to take sides in the emotional soap opera that was her friends' lives. It wasn’t helped by the fact that she didn’t dislike Anakin. The young man was cocky, brash, and occasionally demanding, but his heart was in the right place, and he’d saved hundreds of lives during the course of the war. He’d always been pleasant to her, although she suspected that that was gratitude for keeping Padmé safe, and not really for her own sake. 

She followed Padmé, taking a seat next to her on the sofa. Her friend fixed her with a steady look, all business. 

"How have things been since we spoke yesterday? Do you have a plan?”

“I...think so,” Sabé replied cautiously. "I've thought about it a lot, and the only solution that seems workable...I've...I've decided to try what you suggested, marry someone else." 

They both fell silent as Teckla entered with the tea. It was not that their topic was a secret, but Sabé felt too raw about it to discuss it with anyone but her friends. The quiet handmaiden placed the tray on a side table, moving it within reach, then she bowed and swiftly left. 

Padmé served them both, something that went against Sabé's handmaiden instincts. She accepted her tea cup and held it resting on her lap, warming her palms. 

"So," Padmé continued, "you have someone in mind?" 

Sabé bit her lip, suddenly wary and slightly embarrassed, although she wasn't quite sure why. "Yes," she answered at length, her tone cautious, "but...I'm not sure I want to say who. He...he might not agree." She sighed, swirling the plume of steam rising from her tea. "Are we sure this is the best solution?"

"Nothing short of revoking the law itself will get you out of it," Padmé told her firmly. "And we both know that that's going to be a long path." If the task daunted her, she didn't let on. 

"Are you sure you want to go ahead with that?" Sabé felt compelled to ask, guilty for the trouble she'd be putting her friend through. "I don't want to take you away from other work."

Padmé seemed surprised that she was mentioning it. "Of course. It would take too long for it to benefit you, but it could help someone in the future who might be in the same situation. It's an outdated, irrelevant law, it _should_ be repealed. Not to mention, it’s completely misogynistic," she added, her tone snappish in righteous anger. 

Sabé nodded, lips twitching in a tiny smirk. "You could have just said 'yes'."

Padmé pointedly ignored her, stirring her tea, pasting on her most serene expression. Sabé chuckled. 

“What will you do if your...um...your potential future husband doesn't agree?” Padmé enquired, struggling for the appropriate term. 

“I’m not sure,” Sabé admitted. “Run away and start a life of crime maybe?”

“A little drastic, don’t you think?”

“Probably.” Changing the subject she said, “Have you seen Anakin much lately?” 

Padmé shook her head. “No. Since he’s become a Knight and taken a Padawan he’s sent out on more assignments.” Her voice was level, conversational. Sabé found her more difficult to read than usual, a fact that puzzled her somewhat. 

Putting her uncertainty aside, she carried on. “Obi-Wan mentioned in one of his letters that Anakin had passed the trials. He was very proud, I think.”

Padmé nodded in agreement, still placid. "Anakin said the same. They're quite the team, the HoloNet loves them. They still get assigned to the same missions most of the time. I guess because they work so well together."

“Are they both away from the Temple then? I was hoping to see them while I was here." Sabé tried to look casual as she dug for information, well aware that it would be far more straightforward to simply _ask_ Padmé what she wanted to know. 

“Anakin’s away. Obi-Wan’s not. He won’t be here for long though, the Council members never are.” 

“Oh, well I’ll try and drop round to say hello.” 

A comfortable silence fell. Sabé sipped her tea, idly watching the speeders zip by outside. A stray thought occurred to her, and she shifted her gaze to Padmé. 

"It can't be easy for you," she began, "being between me and my parents. They do work for you, after all."

Padmé raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I hadn't thought of it that way," she admitted. "But this has nothing to do with that. I don't agree with this law, and I don't agree with their decision to make you marry. The work they do for me as my advisors shouldn't be relevant. I won't see you married off to a virtual stranger against your will." 

Sabé nodded, looking down at her tea, grateful, relieved, yet still full of guilt that she was disrupting so many people's everyday lives, Obi-Wan included. "Thank you," she said, hating how small and trivial the words sounded. 

"You're welcome," Padmé said with a gentle smile. "If I can't do this for you after years of you laying your life on the line for me, I wouldn't be much of a friend." 

"See, this-" she pointed at Padmé, who looked a little taken aback, "-this is why people love you. I know you still don't understand it, but this is why. Well, and your dresses, apparently." 

Padmé's expression changed in a heartbeat, irritated and fed up. "Captain Typho told you about the HoloNet crews."

"He did. It'll die down."

"I hope so. I hate being spied on all the time just because I wore a stupid dress!" 

At the mention of spying, Sabé shifted in her seat, reminded of the men she’d seen downstairs. Padmé was looking at her, curious, and she relayed the story and her suspicions, as well as her concerns that she wouldn't be able to sneak away later. 

Padmé listened calmly, frowning at the thought of Jago and Luma sending spies to follow their daughter. "That's...concerning," she muttered. "But we can find a way around it. I can send Moteé or Teckla down with you, and you can wear one of their cloaks."

"Okay. That could work. Even if the other turbolift is fixed by then, we don't know if they'd be checking there too." 

"Better to be safe," Padmé put in. 

Sabé fervently agreed. Caution was always better than having a situation to deal with later, especially in cases of this kind. 

"I need to be sure," she mused out loud. "I'll be able to see if they're still there when I go to meet..." She trailed off, suddenly remembering that she had somewhere to be. "Oh gods, what's the time?" Glancing at the chrono on Padmé's data pad, she leapt to her feet. "I'm supposed to meet Daedrin at the Senate in fifteen minutes. _Karrabast_ ," she swore. 

"You can make it," Padmé assured, standing too. "It shouldn't take you that long to get over there."

"Yes, but I need to get changed. I still look like a pilot." 

"You're in the blue room. There's an en suite fresher there."

"Thanks, Padmé." 

Picking up her discarded bag, she hurried to make herself presentable, knowing that if she didn't, it would get back to her parents. She didn't want to do anything to make them suspicious. Not so soon. 

Thanking the gods for anti-wrinkle fabric, she hauled her best dress out of her bag. It was burnt orange and deep crimson, cinched at the waist with a belt of matching cloth, with the draping sleeves that were so popular on Naboo in recent years. Sometimes Sabé enjoyed feeling elegant and ladylike, but the sleeves got on her nerves, making everyday tasks more difficult than they needed to be. She shimmied into it, hurriedly styling her hair into a simple braid. She had no time for anything more complicated, and she doubted Daedrin would care what her hair looked like. Swapping her boots for heeled shoes, she gave herself a cursory glance in the mirror before leaving the room.

She said a quick farewell to Padmé, then left the apartment, taking the main elevator to the foyer. On the trip down, she wondered how badly the meeting was going to go, whether she'd give her plans away by her lack of enthusiasm about the marriage. There was always the chance that Daedrin was a perfectly nice, decent man, although she knew those were few and far between in politics. Still, even if he _did_ turn out to be nice, she'd break his heart a hundred times over if it meant living her own life. 

There were a few things she was curious to know, and only he had the answers, so she supposed it wasn't a huge setback that she couldn't avoid him. She was dreading it all the same, though, fighting the urge to run back to her room in the apartment and hide under the bed covers, like she'd used to do as a child when a storm came. 

She smiled to herself, realising she was comparing Daedrin to weather, the one thing that people could never resist grumbling about. It seemed surprisingly apt. If she could keep finding things to amuse herself, the meeting wouldn't be nearly as bad. 

_Or_ , she reflected, stepping out of the lift and spotting her two potential spies still in the foyer, _it could be a whole lot worse._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So Sabé's made it to Coruscant. Not somewhere I'd want to live, particularly after Naboo and its prettiness.


	5. The Best Laid Plans

**Chapter Five – The Best Laid Plans.**

_Four days ago._

Senator Quaine Daedrin did not like being backed into corners, told what to do, or made to feel ridiculed. He'd spent years building up his smooth outer shell. His self-assurance and intelligence ensured that nobody treated him that way. And nobody did. Except Chancellor Palpatine. 

In the space of one meeting, the Chancellor had dissolved all his barriers, destroyed his confident exterior, laid his past before him and _blackmailed_ him with it, had made him feel small and insignificant, like a puppet on a string. His anger surged inside him, simmering like acid on metal. Bitterly, he knew that he'd never act on it. Something prevented him, something he wasn't used to feeling: fear. 

He'd underestimated Palpatine. He realised that leaders made difficult decisions, but the Chancellor's reasoning for wanting the Order of Sanctuary eliminated seemed...selfish. His cold, unemotional demeanour as he'd given Daedrin his orders chilled the senator to the bone. Palpatine was more than he seemed, and not to be trifled with. That much was clear. Daedrin didn't much care if a group of glorified bodyguards lost their lives at his hand, but he didn't enjoy being manipulated. Still, it was better than being dead. He suspected that that was the alternative. 

He'd spent his time since the meeting researching the Order, noting any details about their fighting style or their defining features. It had been very secretive in the first hundred years of its life, but recently it had taken a step out of the shadows. He'd still had to dig for information, but there was more available than he'd initially expected. 

Daedrin took several discreet trips to Coruscant's lower levels, putting out feelers, trying to discover if there were Order members on the planet, and who they worked for. His sources got back to him within a day. It was remarkable what a pile of credit chips could do to increase people's productivity. 

With a list of names in hand, he made his plans. He needed to take one of them out as soon as possible, to assure Palpatine that he was earning his pay. Despite his anger and his wounded dignity, Daedrin intended to follow his orders to the letter. Ambition was one of his driving forces, but the other was self-preservation, and he was smart enough to know when he was beaten. Palpatine held all the cards. Daedrin suspected that that statement held more truth than even he realised. 

On the evening of the intended assassination, he made his preparations, hoping that it hadn’t been too long, that he hadn’t lost his sharp instincts. He’d studied the property, an apartment in one of the wealthiest districts on the surface, figuring out his entrance and exit routes. It was a small building by Coruscanti standards, only having ten floors. No doubt that was a selling point: exclusivity. It made his job significantly easier, but still he knew it was going to be tough. By far, the most straightforward hit would be on Sabé, the fiancée he barely knew, the woman referred to by her parents as Syrena. 

Momentarily sidetracked, he thought of her, wondering if marrying him was actually _her_ request that she’d asked her parents to handle. Jago and Luma had written to him, telling him that they planned to break the news to her in a few days, but that could easily be a lie. He’d been completely taken aback by their initial letter. He hadn’t thought of himself as the marrying kind, let alone going about it like _this_ , but he couldn’t deny that he was starting to warm up to the idea. Sabé was a striking young woman, bearing a startling resemblance to Padmé Amidala, (that in itself was a plus, in his opinion), and Jago and Luma had told him she was intelligent. He doubted very much that she’d be pleased at being discussed like a piece of real estate, but he was finding it rather amusing. If it worked out, perhaps he’d ask Palpatine if he could keep her alive. 

Turning his attention back to the job at hand, he ran over his plan once more. Daedrin preferred to leave as little to chance as possible. He was grateful for the nostalgia that had persuaded him to bring his equipment from Axum. To carry out his assignments, he’d always worn light, flexible armour, topped with a helmet to maintain anonymity. Suiting up in it once more brought a torrent of memories, some of which he’d rather have kept in the dark. But with it came the familiar mind-set that accompanied a kill, the calm tenseness that kept him on his toes, the heightened reflexes, and the cold, clear head. For the first time, he actually felt capable of the task ahead of him. 

Daedrin left his apartment via the balcony, under the cover of relative darkness. Coruscant was never truly dark, being constantly lit by thousands of street signs and vehicle lights, but it was still possible to conceal what you didn't want seen. He’d stowed a small swoop bike in the lounge a few days ago. Smuggling it up in the turbolift had been an experience, and had resulted in one or two awkward questions from his neighbours. (He’d pleaded an interest in mechanics.) The bike had been modified to reach higher altitudes, and Daedrin had been assured that he’d be safe using it so far above the surface. As he fired it up, he reflected cynically that if it wasn’t safe, he’d find out fairly soon. 

As it was, he had a trouble-free ride to his destination, parking the swoop on the flat roof of the apartment building. There were no viable sniping points nearby, and the swoop was too unstable to be used as a base. 

Unnerved by the sheer amount of traffic around him, Daedrin crept to the edge of the roof, not used to being so exposed, hoping his black armour blended with the few shadows that stretched across the building. Working quickly, he secured his rappel cable to a sturdy air conditioning pipe, testing it with a few hard tugs. Glancing down at the penthouse balcony below, he waited. 

He’d done his research. He knew that the bodyguard would come out to do a sweep of the terrace at precisely ten-thirty. Checking his chrono, he saw it was ten-twenty-eight. He withdrew a narrow vibroblade from his sleeve, holding it ready. 

At ten-twenty-nine he hopped over the edge of the roof, swiftly rappelling the short distance to hover above the balcony. Flipping himself upside down, he interlocked his ankles around the wire, holding himself still. 

At ten-thirty the balcony door slid open, and a young woman with vivid red hair stepped out. She was garbed in a security uniform, and wore an old-fashioned vibrosword across her back. She stood directly beneath him, just out of reach, and Daedrin froze, knowing he’d have to abort if she spotted him. 

Business-like, she checked the edges of the balcony, looking a little bored, as if she really didn’t expect to find anything. Her greatest mistake was not looking up. 

She crossed to the other side of the balcony, her back to him as she completed her checks. Daedrin lowered himself down, flipping right side up, his boots hitting the floor as silently as he could manage. The ongoing traffic helped cover the noise. Blade poised, he crept closer. 

Lunging, he seized her, cutting a gash on her throat, recoiling as she rammed her elbow in his stomach. She spun, aiming a kick at his hand, evidently trying to knock the blade away. Her green eyes were wide with shock and pain, the blood dripping down her neck. It should have been a fatal slash. Daedrin grimaced, wondering if he was getting sloppy. 

They traded blows on the balcony. She was clearly the better fighter, but Daedrin had his armour to protect him, plus the greater strength that the luck of the biological draw had given him. Wrestling, he pressed her back against the railing, hands around her wounded neck. Her fingers scrabbled at the bottom of his helmet, trying to pull it off. Glancing sideways, he spotted the spy-eye security camera above the terrace door. Smart. 

Daedrin leapt backwards, deciding to change tactic. She’d managed to raise the visor at the front of the helmet, but still it hid everything but his eyes. He didn’t have time to fix it, however, as she came at him again, aiming another kick. He grabbed her leg, leaving her hopping inelegantly, and punched her in the face. She reeled back, and he threw the vibroblade. It buried itself in her chest, and she looked down at it hazily, her expression vaguely surprised. She collapsed to her knees, a trickle of blood leaking out the corner of her mouth, mingling with the bruises on her face. 

“Naharé!” came a shout from the apartment. 

He turned sharply. The dignitary stood there, wrapped in a dressing gown, looking horror-struck. Daedrin dived for the bodyguard’s blaster, snatching it out of her holster and aiming it at the plump politician beyond the door. He fired, purposely missing, and the man scurried off, yelling at the top of his lungs. Daedrin dropped the blaster, yanked his vibroblade out of the woman’s chest, and activated the reverse rappel. He shot up towards the roof, leaving the Order member slumped on the balcony, the look of astonishment frozen forever on her face. 

Daedrin pulled himself up onto the roof, released the cable, and sprinted for his swoop bike. Firing it up, he shot away from the scene, taking a long, roundabout route back to his apartment to make sure that he hadn’t been followed. He dragged the bike inside, hiding it in a closet, reflecting, as he struggled with it, that he needed a different base of operations. He’d look into renting a storage facility somewhere, perhaps. He certainly couldn't continue working out of the apartment when he brought Sabé back to it.

Daedrin retreated to the fresher, scrubbing the bodyguard’s blood off his armour. He’d done it, and successfully, but he wasn’t happy. It should have been a clean kill, no wasting time with close-quarter combat. He met his own gaze in the mirror, taking in his thin-lipped look of disapproval. Next time, he’d do better. 

As well as a base of operations, he was also going to need help. An accomplice taking on some of the work would allow him to have watertight alibis. He’d put in appearances at the theatre or a restaurant, make sure he was seen there. Obviously, he did not intend to raise suspicion, but life had taught him to be cautious. 

Palpatine had made it quite clear that the job was entirely in Daedrin's hands, and that he couldn't expect any assistance at all. It was extremely frustrating, as he felt sure that the Chancellor had a list of helpful contacts as long as his arm. Yet, despite his annoyance, he could understand the man's need to distance himself from what he'd asked Daedrin to do. He would have done the same in a similar position. 

He'd need to speak to his own contacts again, get them to discreetly look into finding someone suitable to work with him. In the meantime, he'd carry on alone, and simply make sure that the next hits went a lot smoother. Still, he enjoyed a small feeling of accomplishment. He hoped Palpatine would be pleased. 

* * *

_Present day._

Even with all her rushing around, Sabé was a few minutes late to the meeting. Sacrificing a burst of extra speed for the sake of dignity, she walked sedately up the carpeted steps to the grand foyer. A popular tourist destination, the public-access sections of the Senate were always busy, making it difficult to get anywhere in a hurry. As she crossed the foyer, tagging on behind a school party, she spotted Senator Daedrin up ahead, waiting for her. 

She hung back for a moment, observing him. He seemed to be waiting patiently, his placid expression suggesting that his thoughts were far away, on other matters entirely. As she watched, he tilted his head from side to side. Most likely he was simply stretching his neck muscles, but the fluid movement reminded her of a snake, and made her feel uneasy. She scrutinised him in detail, trying to read him, trying to find even the smallest hint of what his intentions were. A tall man of slim build, he walked with subtle presence and a vague sense of entitlement. His hair was dark blond, meticulously styled to look casually slicked back. He favoured muted colours, which seemed to emphasise the paleness of his complexion, and his clothes were expensive without being ostentatious. His features were striking, if not classically handsome, with sharply slanting cheekbones, an aristocratic nose and intelligent mismatched eyes. 

Quashing her nerves, she approached him. He turned as she got nearer, greeting her with a smile. Reaching for her hand, he pressed a courteous kiss to the back of it. She fought the urge to tug it out of his grip, uncomfortable with such a forward greeting. 

"It's lovely to see you again, Syrena," he began, his tone nothing but politeness and charm. 

"Sabé, please," she told him. It was bad enough when her parents called her by her birth name, but she couldn't handle hearing it from a virtual stranger. 

"Sabé," he repeated with a nod of acknowledgement. “I must apologise.”

She let the uncertainty show on her face, unsure what he was trying to accomplish with an apology so early in the relationship. “For what?”

He looked genuinely troubled, his brow furrowed in thought. “I’m sorry. I’m aware that this match is of your parents’ making. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

Unsure how to respond, Sabé simply nodded. She didn't really know what to expect from him, and she was finding everything surprising. It was making her edgy. She didn't like feeling as if she wasn't in control. 

Unruffled by her silence, Daedrin shot her another smile. His smiles were pleasant enough, not quite reaching his eyes, but she'd seen enough politicians smiling to be used to that. 

“Shall we get some lunch?” he pressed on. “Then we can talk. I don’t think you said a single word to me the last time I saw you!”

“Handmaidens are seen and not heard,” she explained politely, unimpressed by his attempts at levity. “Lunch sounds good. Lead on.” 

She took the arm he offered, and they made their way to one of the nearby restaurants in the Senate District. The silence hung awkwardly. Then Daedrin chose to break it. 

“I noticed that you carried a sword,” he commented as they walked, his tone conversational.

Sabé raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. As a Royal Handmaiden, she wore a sword on one hip and a blaster on the other, and kept both out of sight beneath the flowing fabric of her cloaks. He must have caught a glimpse of it as she’d passed a data pad to the Queen. 

_So he notices the small details_ , she thought to herself. _Definitely something worth knowing._

“When I found out that Queen Neeyutnee was making a visit,” he went on, “I spent some time researching Naboo. If you carry a sword that must make you a member of the Order of Sanctuary.” 

Sabé still wasn't sure that the increasing attention the Order was getting was a good thing. It made her feel uncomfortable to talk about it. People liked to celebrate the achievements it had to its name, but personally she preferred to stay in the shadows. She could do her job much better from there. 

“You did your research well,” she said, keeping her voice neutral. “The Order never used to be so well known. Its members keep to themselves.” 

He shot her yet another smile, which she caught in her peripheral vision. Really, he needed to tone them down. She doubted very much that she truly inspired so many smiles in the man. 

“It’s an honour to meet one of you,” he told her, a touch of respect in his words. 

Sabé acknowledged it with a nod, not trusting herself to reply to such a deferential statement, especially since she wasn't sure how genuine it was. Generally speaking, she didn't trust politicians. 

When they reached the restaurant, they were seated at a table by the window, which offered an impressive view of the Senate building. Mostly they talked about unimportant things, a light conversation that Sabé handled with ease. He asked her questions, apparently trying to get to know her, and she answered as best as she was able without giving too much away. She was never comfortable talking about herself. Daedrin, on the other hand, was very good at it, telling her all sorts of things about his life that she really wasn't interested in hearing. 

He continued to be courteous throughout the meal, but Sabé was still too tense to finish her food. Despite his graciousness and charisma, she found him impossible to fathom, and it worried her immensely, wondering what he had to hide. He would have made a brilliant Sabacc player. The angular planes of his face registered nothing that he did not want to show. 

Her growing unease aside, she was glad that she had been forced to come out with him, despite the complaints she'd made. It had given her a chance to try and read him. She hadn't been terribly successful, but even that was useful to know, as nobody was that unreadable without a good deal of intention. There was one burning question, however, that she simply had to get an answer to. 

“May I ask you something?” she ventured during a lull in the conversation, moving her food around her plate with her fork.

“Of course, Sabé.”

“Why did you agree to this? To my parents’ proposition, I mean. You’re not from Naboo, you have no obligations whatsoever, so why?”

He seemed to consider the question carefully, taking a slow sip of his wine as he pondered. His face remained placid, guarded. “Is it so strange that a man would jump at the chance to be married to a beautiful woman such as yourself?" he answered at length.

She tried not to scoff. She didn't want to hear comments that belonged in cheap romance novels. 

“Yes," she said bluntly, "frankly, it is. Most people don’t get married to people they barely know, and those that do often get divorced soon after.”

“I'm not most people,” Daedrin remarked, possibly trying to seem mysterious. It was just annoying.

Sabé shook her head, hoping her disapproval was plain to see. “Damn politicians, you always side-step questions.” 

He gave a laugh at that. “True. My apologies.” 

“I don’t want your apologies, I want you to answer.” She was starting to lose patience. 

His gaze was calculating and unwavering as he stared at her across the table. “Very well,” he said, swirling the last of his wine around the bottom of the glass. “You intrigued me.”

Sabé lost what was left of her polite demeanour. “Oh please. Don’t give me that. You were in the same room as me for an hour, you noticed me for maybe half, and we never spoke.”

“You’re rather cynical, aren’t you?” he commented, frowning. 

“Exceedingly so.”

“Hmm.”

“Look,” she said, leaning forward in a business-like way, “I know that you’re trying to charm me, and I appreciate the effort, but at this stage in the relationship what I would really appreciate is your honesty.” 

Daedrin raised an eyebrow, and appeared to decide to humour her, rattling out facts quickly and without much emotion. “I’m not a sentimental man. I don’t expect to fall head over heels in love with the woman of my dreams. But I find the idea of companionship appealing, especially if the companion in question is a woman of rare beauty. Such an arrangement would be hard to find the usual way, so when your parents contacted me, naturally I agreed. But what I said was true: you _did_ intrigue me.”

Sabé gave a satisfied nod. “There, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

“Oh, it was. More than you know. It is not the natural state of any politician to tell the absolute truth.”

“So I gather.”

“Is that the only reaction you’re going to give?” He actually sounded rather surprised. 

“For now.” She was adept at being inscrutable herself. 

Daedrin laughed, and drained the last few drops of wine in his glass. “You are…a very…unique woman, Sabé. I look forward to getting to know you better.”

“Thank you,” she replied simply. “If you’ll excuse me, Senator Amidala is expecting me back.” Sabé got to her feet. She had heard all she needed to, and she was completely out of good-humour. She didn't want to say anything she'd regret. “Thank you for lunch.”

Daedrin rose too, not seeming bothered by the fact that she was leaving him to pick up the tab. “You’re very welcome. How long are you here for before you return to Naboo?”

“Only a week.” 

“So I can see you again?”

Sabé nodded, although she did not intend to be found by the time the week was up. “I’ve promised tomorrow to Padmé though. We have a lot of catching up that is shamefully overdue.”

“Of course, I understand," he said smoothly. "Perhaps the next day then? Shall I contact you at Senator Amidala’s?”

Unable to see any feasible way of sparing Padmé the bother, she reluctantly agreed. “By all means. Goodbye, Senator Daedrin.”

“Quaine, please,” he requested, once again smiling disarmingly. 

Answering automatically, she repeated, “Quaine.”

“Goodbye, Sabé. Until next time.” 

Fervently hoping there wouldn't be a next time, Sabé returned his smile, spun on her heel, and left the restaurant. Every step away from him was like a breath of fresh air. She suspected that it was not so much the man himself that disturbed her, more what he represented. But there was something about him that made her skin crawl. He was _too_ charming, too courteous. It all came across as horribly false. She didn't know him well enough to confirm whether he was genuine or not, (and she accepted that she was inclined to think badly of him because of the marriage), but she couldn't help finding him insincere.

On the air taxi ride back to Padmé's apartment, she reflected on the meeting. She wasn't sure what to make of his answer to her question about why he'd agreed to marry her. It had a ring of truth to it, but she wasn't completely convinced. Perhaps it simply was that an arranged marriage was less hassle than finding a bride the usual way. 

The turbolift in the speeder lot was working again when she arrived at the Senatorial Apartment Complex, and she took it straight up to the top floor, emerging in the short corridor to the front door. 

Padmé was sitting in her office writing a report when she got back, but soon set it aside to ask for the details of the meeting, not bothering to hide her interest. Sabé relayed everything as faithfully as she could, pausing only to answer her friend’s questions.

“I just couldn’t read him,” Sabé finished up with a growl of frustration. “I think I probably did persuade him to tell me the truth at one point, but as for the rest, who knows?”

“So you didn’t like him?” Padmé asked, her brow creased in a worried frown.

“Not exactly. I didn’t have cause to _dis_ like him, but..." Sabé shrugged, still unsure. "I didn’t trust him, not an inch. The sooner I can put my plan into action, the better.”

"Were those two men still downstairs when you came in?"

She'd momentarily forgotten about them, and she slumped in her seat, disgruntled. "I didn't see them, I came in through the speeder lot, but they were there when I left." 

Padmé bit the inside of her cheek, considering something. "I can't even ask security to throw them out," she said, sounding irritated. "They'd just wait somewhere outside. Besides, we don't know for sure what they're here for." 

"I know, I thought the same." 

"You'll have to disguise yourself as a handmaiden when you go. Just in case. Or even a security officer."

Sabé frowned a little, trying to recall something. "You don't have any female officers at the moment though, do you?" 

Padmé pondered that, shrugging. "Well, you could tuck your hair up under the hat, they might not notice you’re a woman if they don’t get a good look at you." 

Sabé nodded in agreement, angry that she was being forced to take such extreme measures. Her parents were trying to rule her life even here. Potentially. It was suffocating, and instilled an urgency in her that the logical part of her brain thought was disproportionate. But even knowing that didn’t stop her reacting, didn’t stop her feeling that she simply _had_ to act _now_. She _had_ to get moving, _had_ to talk to Obi-Wan, as soon as possible. 

Sabé wasn’t sure what expression had made its way onto her face, because Padmé leaned forward over her desk, her dark eyes full of concern. 

“Are you okay? I mean, really okay?” 

“Of course,” she answered automatically, and Padmé pressed her lips together sternly, clearly not believing her for a second. 

“Sabé…” the senator began, her tone distinctly disapproving.

“What?” Sabé said defensively.

“You can’t kid a kidder.” 

Although she was immediately curious at the odd choice of phrase, Sabé bit her tongue, knowing full well that Padmé wouldn’t let her change the subject. She made a mental note to raise it at a later date, if it was still relevant. 

For her friend’s sake, she tried to put how she felt into words. “I’m…uneasy, I guess. I just want all of this over with, so I can get back to some kind of normal. I know it’s not going to be as it was…but it will be better than this.” 

Padmé nodded, seeming to comprehend a little of what she was feeling. “So, that’s your plan for tomorrow, is it? Go to-”

“No,” Sabé interrupted. “I’m going today. Now. When I’ve changed, I mean.”

“Now?” Padmé repeated in surprise. “You’re really that worried?”

“I…seem to be. Yes.” She shrugged helplessly, unable to really explain why it bothered her so much. “I just want it sorted,” she finished up. “I won’t be able to relax until I’ve secured a way to avoid this arrangement, and I really don’t want another sleepless night.”

Padmé looked concerned, but seemed to understand. “Well, okay, if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll feel more at ease,” Sabé clarified. “I’m going to get changed. I’d rather leave while I’ve still got some afternoon left.” 

“Okay. Let me know when you’re going,” Padmé said, already turning back to her work. 

Sabé repressed a smile. Her friend never managed to put unfinished paperwork aside for long. She’d heard from Padmé’s sister, Sola, that as a child she’d done the same with her homework too.

“I’ll stick my head around the door,” she assured. “Where’s Gregar? He should be able to lend me a security uniform.”

Probably without realising she was doing it, Padmé’s head shot back up at the mention of his name. “He’s most likely in his office. You know your way around, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Although calling this place an apartment is stretching it slightly!” 

“I know,” Padmé agreed, wrinkling her nose. “Why the Council of Governors thinks I need this much space, I’ll never understand. Ask Threepio if you get lost, he’s here somewhere.” 

Sabé nodded, although she hoped to avoid the fussy protocol droid if she could. He was always quite hard work. She made her way to the large corridor branching off the marble lounge. It was lined with doors, leading to a multitude of rooms: the main fresher, three rooms for handmaidens and security, two guest rooms, and the Chief of Security’s office. It was an unusual arrangement for the office to be in the senatorial apartment, but Padmé had her own on the upper level, and had always said that she didn’t want the room going to waste. Gregar had his own apartment on the floor below, but it was tiny and functional, containing only the essentials. 

Sabé peered in through the open office door, taking in how tidy and organised the little room was. Another Panaka trait that Gregar had inherited. The man himself was sitting at his desk, head bent over a data pad. He looked up after a moment, alerted by her halting footsteps. 

“Not interrupting, am I?” she asked. 

Gregar sat back in his seat, stretching his neck. “No. I’m just writing a reference for an officer who’s leaving. Why?” 

Sabé entered the room properly, perching on the edge of the desk. “I need your help.”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression openly curious. “With?”

She summed up everything as briefly as she could, explaining her plan to leave in disguise. He waited for her to finish before he spoke, listening with a furrowed brow. 

“That’s doable,” he said confidently. “But are you sure that hiding your hair under a hat will be enough to fool those men downstairs?”

“From a distance…I hope so. I just need enough time to get to an air taxi, and if I’m walking next to you or one of your officers…” She trailed off, shrugging. 

Gregar looked sceptical, but nodded. “Well, we can but try.” 

“Thank you.” 

“I’d better come down with you. If you’re walking next to someone in the exact same uniform, the differences will be more apparent.” 

Sabé paused, a flash of guilt crossing her face. “I hadn’t considered that.” 

“Lucky you consulted a professional, then,” he said with a smile. 

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, smirking. 

“Give me a minute,” Gregar told her, getting to his feet. “I’ll check the spare uniforms and see if we have one small enough. Pretty sure we’ve had some recruits almost as skinny as you.” 

He left the office, and Sabé heard his brisk footsteps echoing down the corridor. She waited there patiently, idly doodling on a piece of scrap flimsi, and soon he was back, a security uniform hooked over one arm. 

“What’s that?” he asked, craning his neck to look at her drawing. 

“It’s a nexu,” she replied, sounding affronted that he hadn’t guessed.

He adopted an incredulous tone. “That’s a nexu?” 

She stuck her tongue out at him, hopping off the desk. Gregar laughed, handing over the uniform. 

“Here you go, smallest I could find.” 

“Thanks.” Sabé held it up against herself, looking down at it in scrutiny. “Should be okay. Let me go and find out. I’ll be back.” 

“Sure.” 

In the privacy of her room, she swapped her elegant dress for the uniform. It was a little big, baggy in some areas, but nothing too noticeable. Once she cinched the waist with her own belt, and tugged on her own boots, it looked fine. Her slender, athletic figure helped sell the deception, as she had always been lacking the soft curves that other women liked to flaunt. She wound her braid into a crown on the top of her head, securing it with the hat, which she pulled down firmly. Studying her appearance in the mirror, she decided that her disguise was passable, but wouldn’t hold up to close examination. Her face was too feminine, even without make-up. 

She strapped her blaster to her hip, looking longingly at her sword, which she knew she had to leave behind. It was too much of a giveaway. Although she found herself using her blaster more often in practical situations, having the sword by her side made her feel better, more confident. It was a kind of good luck charm. Reluctantly, she left it lying on the bed, and she headed back to Gregar’s office. 

He didn’t laugh when he saw her, which she took as a good sign. Perhaps the plan wasn’t as ridiculous as it seemed. They left the office together, heading to the upper level so that Sabé could say goodbye to Padmé. Gregar hovered outside while she did that, his expression neutral once again. 

Padmé raised her eyebrows when she saw Sabé’s new outfit, seeming surprised. “This might work,” she said, her tone betraying how sceptical she’d been. 

“Guess we’ll find out.” Sabé shrugged, then pulled her friend into a hug. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.” 

“I only wish I could do more.”

Sabé smiled as she drew back. Typical Padmé. “You’re going to fight against the law, that’s enough.”

The senator smiled briefly, not looking convinced. “Do you have any idea how long you’ll be?”

“No, no idea. Don’t worry though, I’ll be fine.” 

Padmé pressed her lips together in her favourite judgmental expression, and she placed her hands on her hips. “Don’t worry? Are you crazy?” 

Sabé considered the question, answering honestly. “Probably.” 

Padmé shook her head, sighing. “Be careful.” 

“I will,” she assured. “I’ll be in touch.” She turned to leave, but glanced back in expectation when Padmé said her name. 

“You’re, uh…you’re going to the Jedi Temple, aren’t you?” 

Unsure how to react, whether to lie or come clean, Sabé froze until she realised her silence answered for her. 

Nodding, Padmé didn’t look at all astonished, something that Sabé found curious. “Good luck.” 

“Thanks. I think I’m going to need it.” 

Shooting her friend a tiny, humourless smile, Sabé exited the office. She felt more in control now that she was actually doing something, but she was inescapably nervous, and she wanted it all over and forgotten. Squaring her shoulders, she left the apartment with Gregar, determined to think positively. It would all work out. It _had_ to. 

* * *

After Sabé departed, Padmé sat back in her desk chair, pondering, trying to work out what the outcome of her friend’s plan would be. The fact that she would turn to Obi-Wan Kenobi was not surprising. The two shared a firm friendship, maintained over many years through letter writing. Padmé had always recognised how significant it was for Sabé, how she thought more of the charismatic Jedi Master than she seemed to realise. Padmé had said nothing, not wanting to make Sabé feel awkward. Now that the handmaiden was on her way to ask the question she must ask, Padmé was especially glad she hadn’t mentioned it. She knew Obi-Wan well enough to surmise that he would want to help if he could, but whether he would agree to a marriage of convenience was anyone’s guess. Attachment was firmly against the rules of the Jedi Code, and marriage was almost the very definition of it. 

She leaned her chin on her hand, staring unseeingly at the writing on her data pad, hoping that, against the odds, things would go right for Sabé. She didn’t deserve what Jago and Luma were putting her through. 

“Report going well, M’lady?” 

Padmé glanced up at the sound of Gregar’s voice. He nodded pointedly at the abandoned data pad on the desk.

She kept her voice even and polite. “Very well, thank you, Captain.” 

He was Captain Typho out loud, but somehow had never stopped being Gregar in her head. She wondered if she was Padmé in his. 

“Did Sabé get away all right?” she asked. 

“I think so.”

“And the spies?”

“Still there.” He looked disgruntled, his forehead creased in a frown. “One was outside reading a holo mag. I didn’t see the other one. It’s beyond suspicious now, if you ask me.” 

Padmé nodded, uneasy. “I agree. I could speak to Jago and Luma, but I’m not sure that Sabé would want me to. Not at this stage, anyway.” 

“I would advise caution,” Gregar put in. “We should do nothing until she's settled, or we could put her plans in danger.” 

“You’re right, but doing nothing goes against my instincts.” 

He smiled then, just a brief flicker across his face. “Mine too. Do you think Sabé’s plan will work?” 

“I’ve just been wondering that myself,” she admitted, leaning her chin on her hand. 

“He’s a Jedi, so that’s a huge complication right there.” He didn’t bother to curb his words. Padmé knew full well his opinion of her Jedi husband. “But she doesn’t trust anyone else enough with this.”

Neither of them said it, but it would have been far more logical for Sabé to marry Gregar. But Padmé knew she never would, out of respect for her, and for the fact that Gregar had been in love with her almost from the first moment he laid eyes on her. Sabé had known it before _she_ had. And Padmé’s feelings for Gregar had been the cause of the senator’s only major argument with Sabé, in which the handmaiden took Gregar’s side and refused to believe Padmé’s insistence that she didn’t love him. 

Padmé always tried to keep her thoughts away from those heated words. They made her feel guilty. She had since begun to fear that her friend had been right. Whenever she looked at Gregar she would quash the stirring of old feelings. It didn’t matter anymore anyway. She was a year married to Anakin. Gregar had accepted that, doing his duty diligently as always, but maintaining formality in his manner of address to her. 

They never spoke about the past. Their working relationship was close and functional, but lacked the warmth of the friendship they’d had when Padmé was Queen. With Sabé with them again it had almost felt like a return to those days. 

“Master Kenobi will want to help,” Gregar said, breaking through her thoughts. “But in what capacity, I don’t know.”

“I came to the same conclusion,” she told him, keeping her focus. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out.” 

He glanced up, meeting her gaze with his single good eye. Padmé knew what he was thinking. The side of him that was susceptible to bitterness was considering remarking on how well-practiced he was at waiting. She paused for the barbed comment. She expected them now and then, on the rare occasions that he punished her for falling for Anakin. She deserved it, she supposed. He was only human, and he had daily proof of the fact that another man was married to the woman he loved. He opened his mouth to speak, and she braced herself.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “she’ll contact you as soon as she can.” 

Padmé nodded, inwardly sighing in relief. She found his judgment particularly hard to deal with. It was fortunate that he was gracious enough to spare her from it where he could. She reached for her data pad, pulling up the documents she had been working on. Sitting dwelling on budding regrets was doing her no good at all. 

“I’d like to be alone, please,” she spoke up, her tone formal. “Send Moteé up with some caf.” 

He bowed, his expression placid and unreadable as always. “Of course, M’lady.” 

“Thank you,” she said to his back as he strode away, “…Gregar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm off work for two weeks now. Yaaay! This means I may be persuaded to get another update in next weekend. Mostly I will be catching up on sleep and enjoying not being on my feet for nine hours a day.
> 
> Next chapter will feature our favourite Jedi Master. This makes me happy.
> 
> Fan cast:  
> Daedrin - Young David Bowie


	6. Securing a Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello. It finally rained! This is big news. Weather is a very important topic in the UK, especially when it's been horrible, melty weather. I'm so grateful I haven't been at work. It's bad enough not having air con at home, but to work in it's miserable. Anyway, onwards. Obi-Wan is here! Hooray! Be warned, though, this is a loooong chapter.

**Chapter Six – Securing a Future.**

 

On the upper side of Coruscant’s expansive mid levels, CoCo Town provided a middle ground between the affluent upper levels and the sprawl of the seedy underworld. It attracted visitors from both directions, having both a theatre and a disreputable cantina within several feet of each other. Neither establishment did very well, as there were better cantinas below and better theatres above, and most Coruscant residents knew that. 

However, being in the mid levels had its advantages, one of which was a healthy trade in information. CoCo Town’s citizens heard gossip from the underworld _and_ the upper levels, and turned a profit selling it on. No one in CoCo Town had more to offer than Dexter Jettster, but he chose to earn a living through his diner, only passing information to people he liked. Fortunately for Obi-Wan Kenobi, he was one of those people. 

The Jedi Master found himself once again seeking Dex’s help following an unhelpful trip to the archives. It seemed like a long shot, but then so had the sabre-dart that had led him to Kamino. Dex was full of seemingly-obscure knowledge. 

Obi-Wan walked the quickest route to Dex’s Diner, enjoying the sickly burst of sunshine that had pierced the clouds. Coruscant did not really have seasons as such, simply days that were more cloudy than others, and warmer sunshine for several months of the year. CoCo Town was busy as usual, but nobody bothered him. Most people respected the Jedi, although there had been growing hostility among the population since the war began. Many felt that the Jedi shouldn’t be as involved as they were. Obi-Wan understood why they thought that way, but it was natural for the Jedi to be involved, especially considering that the Separatists were being led by at least one Sith, possibly two. 

Dex’s Diner was a small, one-level hut of a building by the side of one of the main thoroughfares through the district. Seeing it again made Obi-Wan smile pensively, taking in its familiar dull chrome walls and narrow windows, everything unchanged by the chaos that had altered so much across the galaxy. It never changed, just as Dex never changed. He was one of the most reliable friends Obi-Wan had. 

The diner was quiet following the lunchtime rush, only a handful of patrons sitting in the booths that lined the front wall. Dex was leaning on the bar, two of his arms folded, another scribbling over a hard copy of the menu, making notes for future additions. A brown-skinned Besilisk whose large frame indicated his love of food, Dex was the fastest cook in CoCo Town, always using his four arms to prepare meals as quickly as possible, so as to not keep people waiting. It was not the healthiest food on the planet, but it was filling and reasonably-priced, earning him a decent living. 

“Those darned archives of yours!” Dex thundered as he looked up, his gruff voice full of amusement. 

Obi-Wan blinked, briefly startled. “Hello to you too, Dex. You can’t possibly know why I’m here.” 

“You’ve got that look on your face,” Dex stated, folding his other set of arms.

“What look?” 

“Your ‘I need your help’ look.” 

Obi-Wan chuckled, seating himself at the bar. “I see. I must try and be less conspicuous.” 

“What you must try and do,” Dex told him firmly, jabbing a finger for emphasis, “is update your damn archives with information that is actually useful!”

Obi-Wan held back a laugh, imagining the outrage on Jocasta Nu’s face if she could hear Dex’s words. The archivist was very proud of the records, often to be heard blaming the analysis droids or external sources for any errors reported. 

“Cup of caf?” asked Hermione, the diner’s sole human waitress. She was standing guard at the heated caf pot, picking lumps of an unidentified food substance out of her blonde ponytail, a disgusted look on her face. 

“Yes, thank you,” Obi-Wan said with a smile. Nodding at her hair, he added, “What happened to you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she answered through gritted teeth, glaring at the wheeled waitress droid that was busily collecting cups from the booths. 

Obi-Wan had heard Dex reflecting on the bizarre rivalry between his two staff members, stating that the droid was often the jealous one, falling back on spiteful tricks to try and discredit Hermione. Fortunately, the plucky young woman was a favourite with customers, and did not view the droid’s pettiness as anything more than an inconvenience. 

She washed her hands, then served the caf, pouring a large cup for Dex too. Placing Obi-Wan’s cup in front of him, she winked. 

“Here you go, hon.”

“Thank you.” 

Casual flirting was basically in her job description, and Obi-Wan knew that it was no cause for concern. Still, he always chose not to acknowledge it directly. 

“So,” Dex said, setting his menu aside and fixing Obi-Wan with a knowing stare, “what can I do for you?” 

Obi-Wan took a sip of his drink, then set the cup down and drew a small data pad from a pouch on his belt. Calling up an image, he pushed it across the bar so that Dex could see it. 

“Have you ever seen this symbol before?” he asked. “I’m following up a lead. It could be nothing, but I have to check.” 

Dex turned his beady eyes to the data pad, studying the image of a tattoo on the back of a human woman’s shoulder. He raised one of his arms, cupping his bulbous chin in his hand as he considered. 

Obi-Wan watched him examine it, searching his friend’s face for any sign of recognition. “The archives came up with several examples of similar symbols from various worlds and cultures,” he explained, “but nothing exactly like this.” 

“Hmm,” Dex rumbled thoughtfully, not taking his eyes from the picture. “I’m…not a hundred percent certain, but…I think what you got here is the symbol of the Order of Sanctuary.” 

Obi-Wan frowned, folding his arms on the bar, studying the image upside down. “I’m familiar with the name…but I’m not sure why.” 

“I don’t know much about them, I gotta be honest. But they’re a group of warriors that hail from Naboo.”

Understanding dawned, and Obi-Wan’s eyes widened as he began to put the pieces together, realising why he knew the name. 

“That senator friend of yours…” Dex prompted. 

“Padmé Amidala?”

“Yeah. She should have a few Order members among her handmaidens. She’d probably be able to help you out more than I can.” 

Obi-Wan smiled to himself, already thinking of Sabé. “Oh, I think I can do better than that.” 

Dex laughed good-naturedly, a grin stretching his wide mouth. “No doubt. You Jedi are better at everything, of course. Except updating your damn archives.” 

"Will you let that go?" Obi-Wan sighed in mock exasperation, reaching for his caf cup.

"Nope," Dex replied smugly, popping the P. 

Nearby, busy cleaning the surfaces, Hermione giggled softly. 

Obi-Wan shook his head, smiling, and took another sip of caf. While he finished his drink, he and Dex chatted about less important things, reminiscing about the past, and catching up on what each of them had been doing since they last saw each other. 

"How's that apprentice of yours?" Dex asked him, stirring sweetener into his own drink. 

"He’s not my apprentice anymore," Obi-Wan told him, feeling a touch of pride despite knowing better. "He passed the trials a few months ago. He has a Padawan of his own now." 

"Really?" Dex said, brows raised in delighted surprise. "How's that going for him?"

"Well, I think," Obi-Wan told him truthfully. "It's hard work, but I think it's good for him. The responsibility has made him a little more mature." 

_A little_ , he kept to himself, _but still not enough._

Anakin still hadn't learned not to react emotionally, despite experiencing many different consequences of his reckless behaviour. Often it was because he cared too much, always wanting to save everyone. And often he _did_ , which made Obi-Wan feel callous about reprimanding him, because saving lives was a good thing no matter the circumstances. It would be an admirable trait in anyone else, but it was a hindrance for a Jedi. At best it was distracting, at worst...it was a path to the Dark Side. 

Not for the first time, Obi-Wan wondered if Qui-Gon had been right to push for Anakin's training. He'd been too old, he'd already learned love, attachment, anger, pride, all things perfectly normal for a regular childhood, but forbidden to a Jedi student. And they were hard to unlearn, deeply rooted, almost instinctive. Obi-Wan had done his best to teach Anakin to move past them, but he constantly questioned his success. Anakin was an exemplary warrior, but not quite a good Jedi. Not yet. He still had much to learn, but Obi-Wan could do no more than he'd already done. There were some lessons that Anakin had to learn for himself. Obi-Wan was proud of him, of how far he'd come, but he worried too. Almost constantly. 

He’d hoped that teaching Ahsoka Tano would have helped Anakin develop, and it had to a certain extent. The girl was more than capable, coping admirably with the responsibilities the war had thrown on her, but Anakin’s casual disregard for rules and, occasionally, Jedi elders had rubbed off on her as well. Obi-Wan had been concerned about that happening. Ahsoka was at an impressionable age, and she was already showing signs of inheriting Anakin’s arrogance. He only hoped that she would overcome it. And that Anakin would too. 

"Good for him," Dex said warmly, breaking through Obi-Wan's thoughts. "Give him my regards, will ya?"

Shaking his melancholy reflections aside, Obi-Wan nodded. "Of course." 

Realising that he’d delayed long enough, he drained the last of his caf, set the cup down on the bar, and got to his feet. 

"Thank you, but I must get back," he said with a smile. 

Dex fixed him with a sharp look. “You know, the last time I gave you information, a war started.”

“I had noticed,” he answered dryly. 

“Well, just… _warn_ me next time, okay?” 

Obi-Wan chuckled at the words. “I’ll try. I really do appreciate your help.”

Dex nodded to him, grinning. "Any time, buddy, any time." 

Obi-Wan overpaid for his drink, as he always did when Dex gave him information, said his round of goodbyes, and left the diner. 

A short while later, as he ascended the iconic steps of the Jedi Temple, he turned his thoughts to Sabé. Although she’d never said so, it seemed likely that she was part of this Order of Sanctuary, and he knew she’d probably help him with his enquiries if he asked her. He was due to write her a letter, but he doubted the Council would want to wait for a reply. As soon as he returned to his quarters, he would call her. 

It was a simple thing to do, but it seemed…odd somehow. He and Sabé never really contacted each other except for the letters. She would be surprised to hear from him, perhaps worried, until he explained. She always made sure he knew what frequency she could be reached at, however, so it stood to reason that his call would not be unwelcome. He was over-thinking it far too much, more than was probably normal. It was puzzling.

He was pulled out of his reflections as he crossed the main entrance hall of the Temple, interrupted by a dispute that was occurring between a visitor and one of the security droids. The public could visit the entrance hall, but to reach any of the chambers in its depths one had to get past the welcoming droids that guarded it. 

The droid’s falsely sympathetic tone drifted across the foyer, cutting through Obi-Wan’s thought process. 

“I’m very sorry, miss,” it was saying to a woman wearing a security uniform that was slightly too big for her, her dark hair hanging in a long braid down her back. “I cannot allow you to–”

“Dammit,” she snapped dramatically, gesturing with the hat she was holding, “my whole future depends on this!” 

Stepping forward to intervene, quashing his irritation, Obi-Wan asked calmly, “Is there a problem here?” 

The woman’s shoulders tensed at his words. She turned, meeting his gaze with wide, dark eyes. Sabé. Her mouth was open slightly, frozen, as if whatever she’d been about to say had suddenly escaped her head.

For a brief, surreal moment Obi-Wan wondered if his desire to speak to her had somehow conjured her into being. The ridiculous thought vanished as quickly as it came, and he looked at her in surprise. Perhaps she was there regarding the case.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, concerned. “Is everything all right?” 

“This lady would like to speak to you, Master Kenobi,” the droid pointed out unnecessarily. “She says it’s urgent.”

“Evidently,” he commented, studying her, taking in her ill-fitting outfit, and the strange half-relieved, half-worried expression on her face.

She looked a little awkward under his scrutiny, dropping her gaze to the floor, then forcibly raising it again.

“Can we go somewhere quiet to talk?” she said, sounding almost embarrassed. 

Curious about what she had to say, wondering why she seemed so edgy, he nodded at once. “Of course. Come this way.” 

He escorted her out of the entrance hall, into the wide, spacious hallways beyond. She walked half a step behind him, looking around at the vast, impressive architecture with visible awe. Obi-Wan almost smiled. He never failed to appreciate the majesty of the place he was fortunate enough to call home, and somehow he liked seeing someone else admire it too. It was easy to lose perspective when a view was seen every day. Only seeing it again, through an outsider’s eyes, could reinforce how magnificent the Temple was.

The Temple didn’t have many rooms nearby that were suitable for casual visitors. Most of them were in use, but he felt sure that there would be a vacant meditation room. His assumption proved correct, and he waved Sabé inside, apologising for the unusual setting. 

She shrugged off the apology, more coolly polite than he remembered. She was distracted, he could sense that. Her Force signature radiated her anger, distress and nervousness. Outwardly she had it under control, but he could feel it bubbling beneath the surface. Something had gone drastically wrong for her since her last letter. 

He’d been forbidden to speak about the case to anyone not involved. Until he knew the reason for Sabé’s visit, he couldn’t start that conversation. He hoped that _she_ would. Obi-Wan never enjoyed concealing truths. 

They both sat down on low circular stools. The late afternoon light filtered in through slatted blinds, creating a dim yet peaceful atmosphere. Despite the tranquillity, Sabé still looked on edge, twisting her hands in her lap in an unusual display of her anxiety. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Obi-Wan began gently, trying not to make the words sound like an order. “You look as if your entire world has been flipped upside down.” 

Sabé gave a tiny, sardonic snort. “That sounds about right.”

Obi-Wan remained quiet, waiting for her to fill the silence. 

She took a deep breath, making visible attempts to calm down. He could tell that her nervousness was irritating her. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a frown, and her lips pouted, an expression he recognised as one she used when she was annoying herself. 

“You know I mentioned in my letter that my parents had summoned me?” she said finally, directing her sentence at the hat on her lap rather than at him. 

“Yes,” he replied.

“Well, they wanted to inform me that they have arranged a marriage for me.” Her tone was conversational, falsely so. Her voice trembled with repressed anger. “With…” she went on, faltering a little, “…Senator Quaine Daedrin.”

Obi-Wan was suddenly on high alert, his surprise threading through him. It wasn’t the direction he had expected the conversation to take, but he was certain that it still related to the case. The only difference was that now he was convinced that Sabé was still in ignorance. And he didn’t have clearance to enlighten her. 

She met his gaze, and he saw her register his shock, pressing her lips together flatly. Obi-Wan schooled his expression to one of neutral concern. He couldn’t afford to give anything away yet. 

Realising that he wasn’t going to comment, Sabé continued, speaking levelly. “According to an ancient Naboo law, they are within their rights to do this. Padmé is putting together a campaign to get the law repealed, but that could take years. It would be too late for me by then.” 

“Senator Daedrin is not your choice then?” Obi-Wan asked carefully. 

“No!” she burst forth, and he felt something akin to relief briefly flash through him. “I'm sure he’s fine once you get to know him, but I met with him earlier today and I don’t trust him at all,” she went on, letting her bitter and somewhat biased opinion taint her tone. “He’s ambitious enough to get close to the Chancellor, but for what reason I don’t know. My parents want to get near the inner circle, that’s why they’ve suddenly set this up. They claim it’s my _duty_ to abide by their wishes, but…I can’t do it, Obi-Wan. I won’t!” 

She halted abruptly, her eyes wide, her jaw set stubbornly. She looked mildly alarmed, as if she hadn’t expected her emotions to take over quite so much. Her anger had spiked, he could feel it. 

Trying to inject a little calmness, he said, “What other options are there?” 

Sabé took another deep breath. When she continued, her voice was steadier. “My parents did suggest – trying to be reassuring, I think – that I could get the marriage annulled on grounds of non-consummation, but I don’t see that as a feasible option. If I wasn’t willing he could try and force me.”

She spoke matter-of-factly, but there was steeliness to her grim expression. Looking at her, Obi-Wan instinctively felt that if anyone tried to force themselves on her she would most likely take a vibroblade to them. He was glad that she would defend herself, but he didn’t much like the idea of her serving time for murder. 

He nodded, accepting her words with a frown. “True. That’s a possibility that I don’t think we want to confirm.” 

“No,” she agreed, wrinkling her nose. “The only way out of it that I can see is…for me to marry someone else, on my own terms, and work out a mutually beneficial arrangement.” 

Obi-Wan considered that, swiftly concluding that she was probably right. A torrent of questions invaded his thoughts, queries about whether she had considered everything that an arranged marriage would entail, whether she minded giving up some freedoms. He kept them to himself, crediting her with the common sense to have thought it through already. 

Sabé sighed, and he picked up on a wave of nervousness emanating from her. She was sitting rigidly on her stool, her posture tense, her hands gripping the hat she still held in her lap. As he watched, she bit her lip, then opened and closed her mouth, as if the words she wanted to say were stuck in her throat. She sighed again, the brief hiss of air betraying more annoyance than the first time. Visibly, she pulled herself together, sitting straighter and finally meeting his gaze. 

“You know I wouldn’t bother you for your help unless it was urgent,” she said quickly.

“You’re not bothering me at all, but I’m not entirely sure how I can help,” he told her truthfully. “The Jedi can’t offer you protection because they can’t be seen to get involved in personal matters.”

Sabé tilted her head, expression indicating that she’d already come to that conclusion. “No, no, of course. It’s just that… Gods, this is difficult.” She took a deep breath. “I need to find…” She bit her lip again, searching for the right words. “Obi-Wan, you’re my dearest friend and I trust you with my life…and I’m sorry that I have to ask you to do this, but…”

Dawning realisation began to creep in, and his eyes widened, caught off guard. “Are you…” he began hesitantly, feeling slightly awkward that he had to demand clarification. “Are you asking me…what I think you’re asking me?”

Sabé nodded earnestly, cheeks flushing pink. “I need someone I can trust,” she declared simply.

Obliged to state the facts aloud, he said, “Sabé, I’m a Jedi. The Code forbids it.” 

“But dispensation has been granted in the past,” she argued, making a valid point. “Master Ki-Adi-Mundi is married to five wives, is he not?” 

“That’s because his species has a low birth rate.”

Sabé gave a nod, the corner of her lips lifting in a small, cynical twitch. He could see that she hadn’t really expected the importance of her situation to equal Master Mundi’s. 

“I had to at least try,” she said simply. “It’s…it’s okay. Thank you for hearing me out.”

Obi-Wan said nothing, studying her thoughtfully, wondering if he really was in a position to help her. A marriage of convenience was not a violation of the Code in the traditional sense, and wouldn’t alter his dedication to the Jedi Order. It was possible that the Council would allow it, especially in light of Senator Daedrin’s potential involvement in the case they were investigating. But did he _want_ to agree to it? That was another matter. 

“Why me?” he asked her. 

Sabé looked at him in mild surprise. “Uh…well, I know you’re a good person. I trust you more than most other people. And…I guess I thought that a Jedi was less likely to mind being hooked into a marriage of convenience. If I chose someone else it could disrupt their chances of marrying for better reasons, but that wouldn’t be an issue for a Jedi, and it wouldn’t strictly be an attachment. Not an emotional attachment, anyway.” 

Outwardly calm despite his tumbled thoughts, he met her gaze, considering. Part of him was a little surprised that he _was_ considering it, but he knew without question that he had to do what he could to protect her. It was his duty as a Jedi as well as a friend. She needed more protection than she fully realised, and he _wanted_ to help her. He just hadn’t expected to help her… _this_ way. It would be a strange arrangement, it would be awkward, it would be difficult once the news got out, but perhaps it was the best path. He had to trust that the Force wouldn’t lead him astray, wouldn’t let him do something so life-altering if it was wrong. He took in her troubled, tired face, the dark circles under her eyes, the tiny bite marks on her lower lip. It couldn’t be wrong to take that anxiety away, he was certain of it. 

And so, after an eternity, he nodded once. “All right.” 

She blinked at him owlishly. “What?”

“I agree,” he clarified.

She smiled, looking relieved, but there was still a strand of confusion there. “You…you do? That’s…I mean…uh, thank you. But I thought…”

“The Council reconvenes in twenty minutes,” he told her. “I’ll raise the issue with them, and we’ll see whether they’ll consider this. They’ll probably summon you to hear your input.”

“That’s fine.”

Keeping his voice placidly business-like, he asked, “Assuming they agree – and you should have a back up plan, by the way – when do you want to go through the ceremony?”

Sabé’s eyes widened a fraction, as if it was only just hitting her how fast things were moving and changing around her. Her words were calm, however, and he felt sure she hadn’t intended to give anything away. 

“As soon as we can, if you don’t mind,” she said at once. “I can’t function for worrying about this. It’s…actually quite frustrating.”

She seemed embarrassed to admit it. Obi-Wan knew from past interactions that what troubled Sabé the most were the things that affected her on a deeply personal level. She no doubt thought she was overreacting, but he could understand it. She’d worked hard to achieve her position, to create the lifestyle she wanted. To potentially have it snatched away by a law she could not refuse…no wonder she was so livid and uneasy.

“What is it about Daedrin that bothers you so much?” Obi-Wan asked her, curious as to her thoughts.

She shrugged, pulling a face. “I don’t know exactly, and that in itself is worrying. Something about him makes me want to get as far away from him as possible.”

“Always trust your instincts,” he advised. She didn’t know how right she was. 

“I did. That’s why I travelled here to try and persuade a technically-unavailable man to marry me.” Although her tone had been light, it was evident that something still bothered her. “Gods,” she groaned, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. “Am I being completely selfish about this entire thing?” She lowered her hands and sent him a deeply guilty, apologetic look. “I only thought about appeasing the Jedi Code. I didn’t really think about how this would affect _you_. It’ll take your future options away. I can’t ask you to do that for me.” 

She had a point. Sort of. However, he didn’t think her actions could really be considered selfish. It was self-preservation, brought on by panic, laced with a tiny trace of overreaction. But it wasn’t selfish. 

He shook his head, speaking evenly, “Sabé, you’ve done nothing of the sort. My future options were unshakeable anyway due to my duty to the Jedi, and I have no intentions to leave the order. I wouldn’t have agreed if I didn’t understand everything this entails.” 

“But you’ll be stuck with me,” she pointed out. 

“Our lives will barely change,” he countered. “Although I do think it would be better for you to remain on Coruscant.”

“Yes. I agree with that. I’ve already organised something. But–”

“Sabé,” Obi-Wan interrupted firmly, cutting her off. 

She halted mid-word, and he scrambled to fill the silence he had created. 

“Has it occurred to you,” he began, realising that she needed reassuring, needed an alternative viewpoint, “that the idea of being married to you is not unappealing?”

Sabé paused, considering, her mouth falling comically open. “Um…no,” she admitted. 

He gave a brief chuckle, knowing that there was no false modesty. It genuinely hadn’t occurred to her. It was rather endearing. 

“You’re one of my oldest friends,” he told her warmly. “If I am to be stuck with someone for the rest of my life, I can think of no better company.” He sent her a smile, beginning to feel that there was more truth to his words than he had initially thought. “Besides,” he added lightly, “you’ll save me hours and hours of time I would have spent writing letters.” 

She let out a laugh, a burst of released tension. “Fair enough,” she said with a nod. “If you’re sure.”

“I am. I want to help you. But we’ll have to wait and see what the Council says.”

“Yes, of course.” Sabé scrutinised him, her eyes narrowing in thought. He wondered what she was searching for, what conclusions she drew. “I can never thank you enough for this, Obi-Wan,” she said softly. 

He simply smiled, unsure what else there was to say until they had heard from the Council. It seemed strange to try and talk of trivial things after such a weighty conversation. Sabé seemed to concur, and by mutual, wordless agreement, they sat in comfortable silence until it was time to move. 

With only a few necessary sentences passed between them, they travelled up the Temple’s south-western tower, where the Council chamber sat at the very top. On the floor below, Obi-Wan left Sabé in a small lobby near the turbolift that led directly to the chamber. 

“Wait here. I’ll raise the subject as soon as I can. When the lift arrives you’ll know you’re called in.”

“Okay,” she answered with a nod, biting her lip again. It was getting to be a bad habit of hers.

“Don’t be nervous,” he told her, sending her a sympathetic half-smile. “They’re not monsters.”

“Can’t help it,” she murmured honestly, shrugging. “It’s a…weird sensation…you know, knowing a bunch of strangers will decide which path your future takes.” 

Obi-Wan could empathise with that, although he had no basis for comparison. The Jedi Council had always decided his fate. He reached out a hand and squeezed her arm in support, and she gave a small, tight smile in response. 

“I’ll be fine,” she said reassuringly. “Don’t make yourself late.” 

“No, that wouldn’t be a good start, would it? I’ll see you shortly.” 

Sabé nodded, and he stepped into the turbolift. As the doors closed he saw her start to pace, still a catalyst of raw, nervous energy. He hoped she’d have a definitive answer soon. And he hoped she had a back-up plan. Usually his experience gave him some indication of how the Council would vote on certain matters. Meetings often played out as he expected, but in this instance he had no clear idea. The Force remained silent on the subject too, although so far he hadn't felt that he'd made any wrong decisions. 

The lift doors slid open, and Obi-Wan walked out into the large, circular room filled with natural light. But for the section of wall where the doors were, the entire room was lined with huge, lofty windows, displaying panoramic views of Coruscant, and the tops of the Temple's other towers. The Council members sat in custom chairs that formed a circle, their backs to the windows. Several of the Jedi were not present, their seats filled instead by their holographic images, transmitted from whichever far away world they were stationed on. His was the only empty seat. With a small, apologetic bob of his head, he crossed the room and sat down. 

For the first forty minutes, the topic of discussion was the war, how it was progressing and whether any substantial development was close at hand. Each Jedi who was currently elsewhere gave reports on the status of their assignments, as well as highlighting their future plans. Any additional strategies were brought up and debated with the usual calm rationality that could be expected from Council meetings. 

Obi-Wan knew the last business to be deliberated would be the investigation he had a hand in, and he was content to wait until then to raise the subject. He only hoped that Sabé hadn't worn a hole in the floor below with her pacing. 

Master Yoda, who always led meetings by unspoken agreement, finally shifted the discussion towards the investigation, and Ki-Adi-Mundi began his report. 

Clearing his throat, Obi-Wan spoke up. “Forgive me for interrupting, Master Mundi, but before we proceed there’s an issue I need to raise that I believe could be linked to this case.” 

Always easy-going, Mundi gestured for him to continue, one eyebrow raised questioningly. 

Obi-Wan leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. “Earlier today an acquaintance of mine from Naboo came to me for help. Her parents are trying to force her into an arranged marriage that she doesn’t want. Apparently some ancient, outdated law allows them to do so. Senator Amidala intends to try and get the law repealed, but it could take months before action is taken, which would be too late for Sabé, my acquaintance. Her intended is Senator Daedrin, and although it was her parents who made the match, the senator has expressed a keen interest in the idea.”

“Do you believe that there might be a link between this friend of yours and the dead bodyguard?” Mace Windu asked, brow creased in a deep frown. 

“I think it’s possible, yes,” Obi-Wan answered gravely. “This afternoon I enquired about the tattoo that was found on the woman’s body, and was told that it was likely to be the symbol of the Order of Sanctuary, a group of highly-trained warriors from Naboo. I have not yet had chance to confirm this, but I believe that Sabé may also be a member of the Order. It would explain why Senator Daedrin has taken an interest in her.”

Ki-Adi-Mundi fixed him with a thoughtful, narrow-eyed look. “Have you asked Miss Sabé for her input?” 

“No, I didn’t want to say anything without the authorisation of the Council, but I do think that she could be of use. If we find out more about the Order of Sanctuary, we may see more links.”

“You mentioned she came to you for help,” Mace Windu said. “Does she suspect Senator Daedrin of being more than he appears?”

Obi-Wan considered the question, not entirely willing to speak for Sabé. “I…don’t think so, Master. She doesn’t seem to trust or like him, but considering the circumstances her parents have put her in, one could hardly expect her to. The help she asked for is…unorthodox.”

Yoda raised a hand to his chin, frowning at Obi-Wan in a way that made him feel as if the wizened Jedi Master already knew everything he meant to say. “What did she ask for, Obi-Wan?” he said quietly.

Still finding the situation strange and surreal, Obi-Wan pushed his emotional response aside, focusing on the facts instead. “She requested that she and I enter into a marriage in name only, so that she may carry on with her life without being at the mercy of the law. If our suspicions about the senator are true, I believe that this may also be a way to keep her safe.” 

“And, an answer did you give?” Yoda asked.

“Yes, Master. I agreed, providing that the Council voted for the idea. I understand that it may be considered a breach of the Code, but a marriage of convenience will not interfere with my duty to the Order.” 

Sombre and direct, as always, Mace Windu raised an eyebrow as he turned his level gaze Obi-Wan’s way. “Why did she come to you specifically for this?”

Glad that he’d asked Sabé the question himself, he answered simply. “We’ve known each other since the Trade Federation incident on Naboo. She trusts me.” 

“Ask her, we will,” Yoda decided firmly. “Is she still here?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, Master, she’s downstairs.” 

“Go to her. Discuss this, we will, before we call you both back.” 

He’d half been expecting to be dismissed from the conversation, so he stood, bowed smoothly and headed for the lift. He had mixed feelings about the situation, and he hadn't yet allowed himself to consider what his preferred outcome would be. Like Sabé, his future now rested on the decision of his peers. Unlike Sabé, he was resigned to wait patiently until he found out what it was.

* * *

“I think we should allow this marriage,” Ki-Adi-Mundi declared, as soon as the turbolift doors closed behind Obi-Wan's back. “If our suspicions regarding Senator Daedrin are true, then this Miss Sabé could be a target. She would be safe under Obi-Wan’s protection.”

“With regards to her safety, we can organise that without the marriage side of it,” Mace Windu countered. “The arranged marriage, although unfortunate, is a personal matter. I’m not sure it would be wise for us to get involved.” 

Plo Koon spoke up over the top of his steepled fingers. “I don’t think we can assume it _is_ simply a personal matter, not when we suspect Senator Daedrin of murder.” 

“Agreed,” put in Yoda. “More complicated, it is. But right you are, Master Windu, that we cannot be seen to interfere in an individual planet’s law. Another solution, we must find. Kept safe, Sabé must be.” 

“It sounds as if she must also be kept safe from the demands of her parents,” Ki-Adi-Mundi said with a frown. 

“Yes, yes,” Yoda muttered slowly, nodding his head, his expression resigned. “How a parent should treat their child, it is not. But just because we disagree with it does not mean we can involve ourselves.” 

“But if we’re right, a marriage to the senator could be a death sentence for her.”

“If he is targeting members of this Order of Sanctuary,” Kit Fisto added, “then it would be like handing her to him on a plate.” 

Ki-Adi-Mundi nodded in firm agreement. “There is too much uncertainty surrounding the senator. Until we know for sure, we must act as if he poses a direct threat to the lady. The marriage would be an excellent cover for Obi-Wan to act as her protector without alerting Daedrin to our suspicions.”

“It may not be an attachment as it stands now,” Mace Windu put in cynically, “but it could easily become one. We still don’t know enough about why she chose Obi-Wan. We could be fanning a flame that spreads to something problematic. Worst case scenario, it could lead Obi-Wan to the Dark Side.”

“Faced this challenge before, Obi-Wan has,” Yoda said, his tone resolute and reassuring. “More than once, I believe. Always remained strong and committed, he has. But speak for the lady, I cannot.” 

Mace Windu glanced down at him thoughtfully. “You are inclined to allow this marriage?” 

Yoda turned his wise, sleepy eyes Mace’s way. “Trust in Obi-Wan, I do,” he said simply. 

Still looking highly sceptical, Mace leaned back in his seat, holding up a hand. “Well, let’s put it to a vote then.” 

“Shouldn’t we hear from the girl first?” put in Adi Gallia, tilting her head, resting her chin on a single fingertip. 

“Her input refers mostly to the case,” Mace told her. “I don’t believe that there’s much she can say about this marriage issue that we haven’t already heard from Obi-Wan.” 

“Very well then,” said Ki-Adi-Mundi. “All those in favour of allowing the marriage, raise your hands.” 

The room echoed faintly with the sound of rustling fabric as a number of hands went up. 

Mace Windu counted them silently, raising an eyebrow. "All right. Let's get them both up here." 

* * *

Sabé spent the majority of her time in the waiting area pacing back and forth in front of the turbolift doors. It achieved nothing but sore feet and a tense disposition, but she felt better for doing it. When she was fretting she couldn't abide sitting still. Fretting was one of her many traits that she couldn't trace back to either of her parents. She'd never seen Jago or Luma do anything that even remotely resembled it. If she didn't have Luma's looks and Jago's spitfire temper she would have suspected that she was adopted. Idriel had always been so perfect growing up that Sabé felt like an oddity within her own family. That was probably why she was so close to Padmé and Gregar: she'd found herself an alternative family. 

Sabé had long ago reached the conclusion that she must have inherited elements of her personality from her grandparents. She couldn't remember meeting any of them. Jago's parents had died before she was born, and Luma's father when she was two. Luma's mother had remarried and run away to Corellia, and only wrote once a year on the Winter Solstice. Sabé let out a quiet giggle as she considered that. Perhaps it was her maternal grandmother she inherited her traits from, seeing as she was in the middle of trying to do something very similar.

As she paced, she tried not to look at the chrono every five minutes, aware that it only made the time feel even more sluggish than it already was. Eventually, after an hour or so, the lift doors slid open and Obi-Wan stepped out. She glanced at him in surprise, then quickly figured out what was happening. 

"They're talking about us, aren't they?" 

He smiled wryly, clasping his hands behind his back as he stood there, seemingly content to wait however long. "Yes, they are." 

Half afraid to ask, she ventured, "What do you think they'll say?" 

"I honestly don't know," he replied with a shrug. "They'll put it to a vote, take my opinion into consideration, weigh up the factors of the issue."

Sabé sighed, folding her arms, clenching fists because she didn't know what else to do with her hands. "I always knew this was a long shot," she confessed, trying not to slip too far into pessimism. "I mean, it's an absurd question to have to ask someone." 

"Do you have a back-up plan?" Obi-Wan asked her seriously, his clear, blue gaze all earnest concern. 

She thought of Gregar and his offer, and hesitated. "Ye-ess," she stumbled incoherently. "Sort of. But...no, not really." 

He looked understandably puzzled and amused at her answer, overlaying the worry for a moment. "I see. Thank you for clearing that up." 

She couldn't help but laugh, and felt grateful for the brief respite. "I...A friend of mine has offered," she explained, attempting to clarify. "But I know that it would be the wrong decision for him. He's in love with someone else, and I believe that she has feelings for him too. I don't want to get in the way of that. Neither of them would thank for me for it in the end." For the moment, she chose not to get into the complicated tangle that was Padmé, Gregar and Anakin. "So you see, I _have_ a back-up plan available, I just don't want to use it." 

He nodded, seeming to understand, and they stood in companionable silence until the turbolift doors opened once more. Obi-Wan held out an arm, gesturing her forward. Gathering her courage around her like a shroud, Sabé stepped into the lift. The ride up was short, and it seemed like the doors had barely closed before they were sliding open again, revealing the impressive circular chamber. The eyes of the Council members bored into her as soon as she entered the room, and she tried not to feel self-conscious. Following Obi-Wan's subtle lead, she crossed the patterned floor to stand in the very centre. 

“Welcome, Sabé,” said Master Yoda, his eyes kind despite his solemn tone. 

She remembered him and one or two others from Qui-Gon Jinn's funeral on Naboo. She doubted that they remembered her, but she was used to that. 

“Thank you,” she replied politely. 

“Explained the situation to us, Master Obi-Wan has. An unusual one it is.”

“To say the least.” 

“We’re told Senator Daedrin is your intended,” Master Ki-Adi-Mundi put in. 

“That’s right,” she confirmed, wondering why they were asking what they already knew. She assumed they saw some value in reading how she answered. They all sat casually in their seats, leaning back, looking confident, calm, and austere. It was a little intimidating. 

Master Yoda scratched his chin, frowning. “Hmm. And not keen on this idea, you were. Very wise. Very wise.”

Sabé raised an eyebrow, beginning to sense that there was more going on than the issues she had brought to the discussion. “Wise? How so, Master Yoda?”

“Come back to that, we will," the Jedi Master assured her, leaving her mildly annoyed at the lack of answers. "Please tell us why you chose to ask for Master Obi-Wan’s help.”

Sabé took a deep breath, reciting the facts that she was sure they had already figured out. “I've known him for eleven years, ever since he and Master Qui-Gon Jinn helped us reclaim Naboo from the Trade Federation. Since then, we have kept in touch by trading letters. I know him to be an honourable man, and a great Jedi Master, and I trust him with my life.” 

Master Yoda nodded slowly. She couldn't tell if he was pleased with her answer or not. 

Master Mace Windu spoke, peering at her over his clasped hands. “Are you a member of the Order of Sanctuary?”

Taken aback by the question out of the blue, she simply nodded, surprised that the once-secret Order had been a point of discussion twice in one day. 

“Could you tell us about that?" Master Windu went on. "What are their defining traits?"

Not seeing the relevance, but knowing better than to ask, Sabé obliged him. "Well, Order members are exclusively female, for a start. Like the Jedi, students are taken on from childhood, and train under one or two fully-fledged warriors. At the age of fourteen, they must pass a test to qualify for full initiation. If they do get accepted into the Order, they're presented with a traditional sword as a kind of passing gift."

"Do you fight with the swords?" Obi-Wan asked, looking genuinely interested in the crash-course culture lesson she was giving. 

"Sometimes, but these days a blaster tends to be more practical. Swords don’t block laser bolts.” 

“But you do carry the swords, do you not?” Master Mundi asked.

“Yes, most Order members do,” Sabé told him with a nod. “It’s seen as a kind of…mark of rank.”

Master Mundi exchanged a glance with Master Windu, and the latter raised a slanting eyebrow, turning back to Sabé. 

“Is there anything else you can tell us about the Order?” he pressed. 

Frowning a little, still irritated at the lack of answers, Sabé continued, keeping her voice level in an effort to remain polite. “When a student qualifies for full membership they receive two initiation tokens. The first is a name. All Order members have names that end in an accented E.”

In her peripheral vision she saw Obi-Wan shoot her a slightly baffled glance, and she knew what he was thinking. 

“Just to be confusing, not all women with names that end in É are Order members,” she explained. “Over time, and partly down to the secretive nature of the Order’s earlier years, the trend leaked into Nabooian culture, resulting in non-members with names ending in É. Padmé Amidala being one such example.” 

“So Sabé is not your real name?” Obi-Wan said, looking at her with curiosity. 

“It’s not my birth name,” Sabé corrected. “I consider it my true name now. I _earned_ this name. It defines my achievements in life.” 

He sent her a tiny smile, indicating that he understood. She could see why. She was proud to be known as Sabé, just as he must be proud to go by his earned title of Master Kenobi. Within the limits of the Code, of course. But that was a conversation for another time, when it was just the two of them. 

Clearing her throat briefly, she carried on. “The second token is received during the initiation ceremony. It’s a tattoo in brown ink, a symbol that evolved from the Naboo royal insignia.”

Master Windu sat forward in his chair. “What does this symbol look like?”

Sabé thought about the best way to describe it. “It’s a little hard to explain, but it’s a stylised flower with a tall, pointed central stem and a curled petal on either side.” She sketched the air with her fingers as she spoke. “It has varying small details as well.”

“Hmm,” said Master Yoda, drawing the word out. It was a thoughtful sound, but there was a resigned ring to it, as if Sabé had just confirmed something for him. 

Losing patience, she shot a bemused glance at Obi-Wan, who gave her a tight smile and a small nod. Guessing that he was indicating that it would all make sense soon, she bit her tongue against any comments. 

“This symbol…does it look like this?” Master Windu asked, holding up a data pad. 

Frowning, Sabé stepped closer for a better look. The data pad displayed a close up of a woman’s back, the tattoo clearly visible on the left shoulder. 

“Yes, that’s it,” she affirmed. “On an Order member, definitely. Where did you get that?”

For the first time, Master Windu lost some of his severe demeanour towards her. “Unfortunately, it’s on the body of a woman who was murdered at her employer’s apartment four days ago. She was identified as Naharé, a bodyguard from Naboo, but her status as an Order member was unknown.”

Sabé shook her head, shocked. “But how? Order members are supremely skilled fighters, they don’t fall easily.”

“Shows the marks of her defence, her body does,” Master Yoda put in. “An experienced warrior did this.”

Flustered, Sabé exhaled noisily, her mind flooding with questions. “You…you said murdered. _Murdered_ , not killed. Like…it was a…planned hit of some kind.”

“We believe it was,” Ki-Adi-Mundi told her. “The assailant shot at the diplomat Naharé was protecting, but left as soon as he ran off. Clearly, the bodyguard was the only priority.”

“But that’s…” She gestured meaninglessly, clutching at air. “That doesn’t make any sense. Who would attack the security and not the diplomat? I mean, _why_?” 

“Seeking answers, we are,” Master Yoda assured her. “For your help with this lead, grateful we are.” 

“You’re welcome,” Sabé replied automatically, “but I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke up in a calm tone. “One of our suspects is Senator Daedrin, although we do not have conclusive proof.” 

Sabé’s entire body went cold. Everything snapped into place, the Council’s line of questioning suddenly making sense. 

“What proof _do_ you have?” she said at length, her mouth dry. “If I may ask.” 

“We have security footage,” Master Windu spoke up. “The warrior wears a helmet, but during the fight, Naharé was able to lift the visor. His features are far from clear, but we were able to pick up a slightly unusual retinal scan.”

“Daedrin has mismatched eyes,” Sabé recalled numbly. 

Master Yoda nodded. They were apparently already aware of the fact. “Obvious, it is, that the figure is a humanoid male, but more proof we will need if we are to stop him.”

Sabé could feel the beginnings of a headache thrumming at her temples. Daedrin’s agreement to the arranged marriage suddenly made chillingly perfect sense. If she went through with it, she could be making herself the easiest assassination target in the history of the Republic. 

“It’s possible that someone is targeting Order of Sanctuary members,” Master Windu said grimly. “But as yet, we’re not sure why.”

“But clear, it is, that you must not marry the senator,” Master Yoda declared firmly. 

Sabé had found herself temporarily distracted while relaying information, but at the tiny Jedi Master’s words, she felt her nervousness return in a single rush. Although, strangely enough, the new knowledge that her life might be at stake made her more hopeful about the Council’s agreement to her plan. She shot a quick glance Obi-Wan’s way, but his face was neutral and unreadable, and he did not meet her gaze. 

“Voted on this, the Council has,” Master Yoda went on. “A decision, we have reached.” 

“The Jedi cannot be seen to interfere in individual planetary law systems,” Master Windu interjected, his tone once again bordering on moody. “However, considering that your life may be in danger, and we don’t want to alert Senator Daedrin to our suspicions before we’re certain he’s behind the murder, we have agreed to allow some more…unusual measures to ensure your safety.” 

Sabé listened with rapt attention, wishing he’d get to the point and give her a definite answer. 

“Due to the unusual nature of the situation, and considering that it will not alter Master Kenobi’s commitments to the Jedi Order, the Council grants you permission to marry.” 

Sabé nodded, so full of relief and gratitude that she didn’t trust herself to speak sensibly. 

“The marriage will be ideal cover for Obi-Wan to act as your protector,” Ki-Adi-Mundi explained. “However, if the story is picked up by the HoloNet, Obi-Wan must make a statement declaring that he acted against our knowledge. We will deny it if we are approached. It will not look good for you, Obi-Wan, we will have to appear to reprimand you. But it will die down eventually. You will be able to resume normal duties when it's made clear that it's a marriage of convenience.” 

Obi-Wan bore the new information without flinching, his calm expression never wavering. “If that is what it takes to keep the Jedi free from suspicion of intervention, then so be it.” 

“No, I’m not having that,” Sabé cut in. “There must be another way. I can’t risk Obi-Wan’s reputation like this.” 

“Sabé,” Obi-Wan soothed, “there is no other way. Don’t worry about me, I’m thick-skinned.” 

“I can’t sit back and hear them whisper about you, knowing that it’s my fault. I didn’t think I would be causing you this amount of trouble when I came to you for help.” 

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched in his attempt to hide a smile. “Sabé, you have been causing me trouble ever since I met you.”

Sabé shot him an indignant look, but nodded her understanding. He was changing the tone: the topic was closed. She would have to get past her guilt and accept the help he was freely giving. 

“For your protection,” Master Mundi continued, “we will set you both up in an apartment. We keep a number of safe-houses that you can use. It’s basic, but it’s near the Temple, which should suit us. You’ll be safer there than if you chose to stay with Senator Amidala or anywhere in the Senate District.” 

Sabé wondered how they knew she had decided to remain on Coruscant, but figured that it was a fair assumption. “I’m sure that will be just fine,” she said. “Thank you, all of you, for everything you’ve done.”

“It’s not over yet,” Master Windu reminded her. “It could take some time to build up a case against Senator Daedrin. The Jedi must remain a neutral party, but we cannot ignore what’s going on here. The Coruscanti police are already looking into it, but we doubt they’ll dig too hard. They don’t like to upset the high-ranking politicians. We will have to remain discreet while we investigate. We must have irrefutable proof before we present our findings to the Chancellor. The last thing we want to do is tip off the senator.”

“Of course, I understand.” 

“But for now, think of yourself, you must,” Master Yoda told her sagely. “Have the ceremony as soon as possible, you should.”

“We’ll need witnesses,” Obi-Wan pointed out. 

“I’m not teaching a class until tomorrow,” said Master Mundi. “I can accompany you.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Master Secura is recovering from a minor injury, is she not? I’m sure she would appreciate a change of scenery.”

Master Yoda nodded. “Speak to her, I will. In the meantime, go and rest. Many plans to make, you have.” 

Obi-Wan bowed and Sabé followed his lead, realising that they were dismissed. As soon as the lift doors had closed, shutting the Council chamber from view, Sabé let out a deep sigh. 

“That went better than I could have hoped,” she said. “Except for the part where I discovered that my ex-fiancé has probably murdered one of my fellow Order members.” Her tone was light, but in reality she was deeply disturbed by the thought, unable to fathom why anyone would target the Order, and aware that they would only get further confirmation when another bodyguard turned up dead. 

“Yes. I’m sorry I couldn’t mention that before, but I wasn’t sure if the Council wanted to share the information,” Obi-Wan said, a small apologetic look on his face.

“That’s okay, I know how these things have to work. But if it is Daedrin, I don’t understand how he plans on targeting the others without going to Naboo.” 

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Perhaps he’ll find a legitimate excuse. Politicians are always making visits to other worlds. Although that wouldn’t be very subtle,” he admitted. “And would make him look extremely suspicious.” 

“He’s risen so high now, since he got closer to the Chancellor. He’s noticeable to everyone.” She shot him a sideward glance, one eyebrow raised. “Maybe he’s bitten off more than he can chew? I mean, why would he slip up so soon?” 

“Perhaps,” was all he said. 

The lift doors slid aside, and they emerged back in the lobby where Sabé had spent so much time pacing earlier. 

“I want to help with this investigation,” she announced, making a snap decision. “Thinking about it, it would be better if I _did_ marry Daedrin. Then you’d have someone on the inside.” 

“No,” Obi-Wan said at once. “If you married him you could end up dead within a month.” 

“Not desirable,” she muttered. “I know you’re right, but for the sake of the investigation it _is_ a golden opportunity.”

“Sabé, just for once would you please not put your duty first? We’re trying to protect you. If there is a way you can help we’ll let you know, you have my word.” 

“You’d better,” she said good-naturedly. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “We have time for a quick meal.”

“Not really, but I should probably try and eat something.”

He nodded. “I thought as much. Follow me.”


	7. A Very Strange Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this one's a little late. Being dealing with some stuff. If you know where I got this chapter title from, you are awesome :)

**Chapter Seven – A Very Strange Wedding.**

 

As Obi-Wan escorted Sabé down to one of the Temple’s many refectories, she realised that she was hungrier than she’d thought. She’d barely eaten anything at her lunch date with Daedrin, and she was starting to feel it. They sat together at a small table in the corner, and she was suddenly hit by a wave of fatigue, wanting nothing more than to curl up and sleep until _that_ conversation with her parents was a faint memory. 

“Are you disappointed that you won’t get a proper wedding?” Obi-Wan asked unexpectedly as they ate.

Confused, she glanced up, her brow furrowed. “Not really. Why?”

“HoloNet gossip would have us believe that most women have their weddings planned from childhood.”

“Oh.” Understanding dawned, and she laughed. “Not me. As a child I was more interested in climbing trees.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, the broadness of his smile indicating that he could picture it quite easily. 

“I lost count of how many lectures I got.” Lifting her chin, she put on an exaggerated, inaccurate impression of her mother. “‘Dresses aren’t for climbing in’, ‘You’ll ruin your shoes’, ‘Why can’t you act like a lady like your sister?’” She sighed, once more feeling a stab of bitterness. “Idriel – that’s my sister – was always so perfect at all the ladylike stuff that I figured our mother would be content with her, and I could carry on as I liked. But she used to haul me in from the garden and make me take etiquette lessons. Which, ironically, turned out to be a godsend when I was training to be a handmaiden, so I suppose she was right in a way.”

“You don’t talk about your sister much,” Obi-Wan commented, spearing a piece of salad with his fork. 

Sabé raised her eyebrows in surprise, considering it. “I suppose I don’t. We don’t see each other very often.”

“What does she think about your arranged marriage?” 

“I’m not really sure.” She glanced unseeingly to one side, recalling the brief conversation she’d had with Idriel. “She…didn’t seem to have any strong opinions about it either way. Which, thinking about it, is…kind of odd.” She frowned, remembering again the way her sister hadn’t seemed surprised or concerned about their parents’ actions. “I wonder what they said to her before she came and found me.” Sabé shrugged, taking a bite of her meal. She chewed slowly, thinking, still puzzled and hurt by the whole thing. She didn’t particularly want to talk it over and face it all again. 

“To return to your original question,” she said eventually, “if I ever did think about my wedding, I never would have imagined wearing this outfit to it." 

Obi-Wan glanced at her ill-fitting security uniform and smiled. "Do you want to change? We have a little time."

"No, no, I'm fine. It doesn't bother me. I wear nice dresses on a daily basis." She considered her childhood dreams, trying to recall the ones about her wedding. "It was always my choice of groom," she added, remembering. "I never expected that I’d have to fight for the chance to make that choice.”

He studied her, his expression pensive. With a touch of caution in his voice, he said, “I…am your choice?”

“Well…yes. In a way. It’s not normal circumstances, I admit, but I _have_ made a choice, however limited it was."

He conceded the point, seeming more at ease. “Fair enough.” 

Sabé put down her fork and sat back, cradling her cup of caf in the palm of her hand. “What about you? I know Jedi aren’t supposed to get married but I’m sure it’s crossed your mind before.” 

“Once or twice,” he replied with a private smile. 

Pleasantly surprised, Sabé broke out in an unexpected grin. “Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’ve been in love! Tell me!”

“Must you press every point I raise?” he said with a mock grumble, the twinkle in his eye giving him away. 

“In this case, yes," she insisted, glad to be talking about something else. "Spill! You never mentioned anyone in your letters.”

He shrugged casually, an obvious attempt to kill the topic. “They were both before I met you.”

She waved her hand in a circular motion, urging him to continue. “And? Brunette, blonde, redhead, Twi’lek, Mirialan?”

“What does it matter?” he sighed, setting his cutlery aside. 

“It doesn’t. I’m just curious about Obi-Wan the man, since I’m already well acquainted with Master Kenobi.”

He didn't look as if he fully understood why she was asking, but he seemed to pick up on her need to talk about something that wasn't related to her situation. With a pensive exhale, he clasped his hands in front of him, eyes turned to the table top as he thought back. 

“Okay, fine," he answered at length. "The first was a fellow Padawan, Siri Tachi. We discovered feelings for each other, but we eventually decided to put them aside and maintain our commitment to the Order. I don’t think either of us regretted that decision. It was the right one.” His voice was level and entirely at ease. He truly had found the balance of distance and affection. 

“What's she like?” Sabé asked, curious about the kind of person who could break through his exterior as a model Jedi. 

"She was spiky," he told her with a fond smile. "But with a kind heart. She...challenged me, and it was good for me. She was a good Jedi...a good person."

"Was?" Sabé repeated softly. 

He nodded. "She was killed a few months ago. Saving Padmé, actually." There was no trace of sadness in his voice. He'd clearly come to terms with it weeks ago, but there was an edge of wistfulness to his words. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. I'm grateful for the things that she taught me, and grateful that I knew her." 

The unselfish, open-hearted way he spoke was rational, but didn't lose any emotion in the process. If Sabé had had to define how to love without forming attachments, that would have been it. It puzzled her further about the Jedi Code, which she'd never really understood. It was clearly possible to love _and_ be a dedicated Jedi, so she didn't see why it should be so forbidden. But then, not every man was like Obi-Wan. As much as she hated to think it, she wasn't convinced that Anakin loved Padmé in that selfless way.

"You said 'first'," she commented, taking a sip of caf. "There was someone else?" 

Obi-Wan nodded, staring unseeingly at the table top. He seemed a little more on edge recalling the second, which only served to make Sabé more curious. 

“The second," he ventured at last, "was Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore.” 

Sabé felt her eyes widen in surprise. “A duchess? My goodness, Kenobi, you aim high, don't you?” she said with a wink. 

He smiled wryly. "Not on purpose, I assure you." His smile dropped and his expression grew reflective. “Satine and I were very young, both of us not yet twenty. It was easy to love her. She was strong-minded, intelligent and always put her people first. I fell into the trap, despite my past experiences with Siri that should have taught me to know better. It was different with Satine. She wasn’t bound by the Jedi Code as I was. I don’t think she truly understood why I gave her up.” 

“That must have been hard.”

“It was, especially considering…well, I had been foolish, let’s put it that way.”

“I don’t follow,” Sabé said. 

Obi-Wan was not the sort of man who got embarrassed. The quick shift of his gaze to the imaginary lint on his sleeve was the only indication that he was discussing a sensitive topic. 

“Satine and I…” he began, examining his caf cup, “had a...what you’d call a…”

“Physical relationship?” Sabé offered with a flash of inspiration, curbing her surprise. 

He glanced up to check that nobody was listening, then nodded, seemingly relieved that she had come to the conclusion on her own. 

“Fortunately no…complications…arose from that…incident.”

Understanding what he meant, Sabé nodded her agreement. She felt a dash of sympathy for the unknown duchess, glad that fate had been kind and she was not stuck raising a half-Jedi child on her own. 

“So what happened?” she asked, finding the insight into his past intriguing. 

“I...was self-centred." He gave a sigh, shrugging. "There's no other word for it. I knew my actions were against the Code, but I just wanted a moment of selfish normality. It was wrong, and I shouldn’t have used Satine like that, but... I got caught up. I even considered leaving the Order to have a life with her, but I knew that that would be a decision I would come to regret. What we had was...a whirlwind: intense but also destructive. It would have destroyed us both in the end, even at nineteen years old, I could see that. So we parted. Master Qui-Gon and I were stationed on Mandalore for a year, but I always knew I'd have to leave eventually.” 

“Then what happened?” Sabé asked, leaning her elbows on the table. She was finding it hard to picture Obi-Wan letting himself get caught up in anything. He was always so in control, so self-assured, and seemed as if he always had been. 

“I moved on," he told her. "Continued to learn and grow, until I was sent to negotiate with the Trade Federation and ended up stranded on Tatooine with a mouthy handmaiden.” 

She grinned. “What can I say, it was fun being Queen while I got to boss you around.” 

“Evidently,” he replied, smiling. "I remember you actually _argued_ with me when I told you not to send any transmissions. I was just doing what Master Qui-Gon had instructed, and you jumped straight down my throat. I didn't know how to react." 

Sabé smiled sheepishly, letting out an embarrassed little laugh. "Um...you argued back, I seem to recall. And then you stormed out."

"I didn't 'storm'," he insisted.

"Oh, there was definitely some storming going on." 

A blue-skinned Twi’lek Jedi made her way over to their table, weaving her way through the others. She wore a brace on her right arm, and one of her lekku was heavily bandaged. She walked with grace, despite her healing injuries, and her face was free of pain. She wore a long, flowing gown and cloak that hid her lightsaber from view. Sabé thought it was an unusually dressy uniform for a Jedi, until it occurred to her that it was probably a disguise. Obi-Wan’s brief look of surprise confirmed her suspicion. 

“Master Kenobi,” the Twi’lek greeted in accented Basic. 

“Master Secura. How are you feeling?”

“Frustrated,” she admitted. “I’m keen to get back to active duty. But thank you for this opportunity to leave the medical wing.”

“Any time.”

She turned to Sabé, offering a smile. “I am Master Aayla Secura.”

Sabé nodded politely. “Sabé. Pleased to meet you.” 

“Nice dress,” Obi-Wan commented. 

Master Secura pulled a face. “It’s my disguise. The Council thought that it would not look good for three Jedi to appear at a wedding.”

“Would it not be safer for Obi-Wan to be disguised too?” Sabé asked, frowning.

The Jedi shook her head at once. “No. There cannot be the slightest thing that could be used in a case against the legality of the marriage. Obi-Wan must be himself. Now, if you are both ready, it is time.” 

Sabé and Obi-Wan shot each other a look across the table, then got to their feet. 

Obi-Wan glanced at Master Secura. “We’re ready.”

They made their way to the entrance hall, Sabé trying her best not to feel irrationally nervous. She'd fought to get to this point, and it made no sense that she should feel anxious again. Yet, she had to forcibly put it out of mind. 

Master Mundi was already waiting for them, his usual Jedi robe replaced with a long, bulky coat that had clearly seen better days. He greeted them with a nod. 

“Miss Sabé, Master Kenobi,” he began in his customary courteous tones.

They both nodded to him. 

“Have we located a registrar?” Obi-Wan asked him. 

“Yes,” said Master Mundi. “There’s a Chagrian registrar working near the Uscru Entertainment District.”

“What’s his reputation?” Sabé put in.

“Not brilliant. He books appointments in fifteen minute slots, but he is legal.”

“That’s all we need, I suppose," she said with a shrug. "Have we booked?” 

Master Mundi gave a nod. “Yes, and we should be on our way.”

The party took the turbolift to one of the Temple’s hangars and Master Mundi settled himself at the controls of a four-seated speeder. Master Secura got in beside him, leaving the back seats for Sabé and Obi-Wan. 

They joined the lines of traffic weaving their way through Coruscant’s sunset-streaked skies, heading for the vibrant lights of the entertainment districts. The short journey passed in silence. Sabé was tense. She knew it was only a matter of time before her parents would first discover her missing, then soon after discover her marriage. And then of course, there was Daedrin to consider. She wondered how he would react. His smooth exterior could easily hide a coiled spring of anger, ready to lash out when necessary. Or perhaps he would simply consider himself inconvenienced and devise an alternative way of dispatching her. 

She gave herself a shake. It would achieve nothing to wildly speculate. She would do better to focus on the matter at hand. 

The speeder dipped down towards the outskirts of the district. The natural light was restricted so far down, and the streets were lit by colourful signs and adverts. The outskirts were not quite as seedy as the city’s underbelly a few levels down, but it did attract death stick dealers and one or two higher-class streetwalkers. It was one of many areas that served as middle-ground between the city and the undercity, in reputation as well as location. 

They left the speeder somewhere memorable, activating the security field since its theft was a distinct possibility. The building they needed was as decorated as the rest, its front façade littered with neon signs. 

“Charming place,” Master Secura commented sardonically, her nose wrinkled. “Could we not do better than this?”

“Not on such short notice and with a secure level of secrecy,” Master Mundi replied. 

“It could be worse,” Sabé pointed out. 

They headed towards the main entrance, the three Jedi clustered around their charge. Inside, there was a waiting room with a mismatched collection of chairs, a door that seemingly led to the ceremony room, and a rusting protocol droid. 

“Greetings sirs and madams,” it said enthusiastically. “May I take the name of your booking, please?” 

“Kenobi,” Master Mundi said. 

The droid waved them towards the seats. “You are expected, please make yourselves comfortable.” 

The Jedi each took a seat while Sabé drifted towards the window, watching the patrons of the entertainment district begin to emerge for the night’s amusement. Her mind full of her various worries, she felt worlds away from the laughing crowds below, half wishing she could join them. She heard a rustle of fabric, then Obi-Wan’s quiet footsteps approaching her position. 

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Are you nervous?”

She glanced up at him, her dear friend who would in a matter of minutes become her husband. It felt...strange.

“Yes,” she answered honestly. “It’s annoying, I didn’t think I would be.”

“You are entitled,” he told her. “It’s a big step, after all. And this isn’t exactly a normal situation.” 

“I wish you Jedi weren’t always so calm about everything! It makes me feel inferior!” 

He gave a quiet chuckle. “It’s a lesson drilled into us at a young age.” There was a brief, companionable pause, then he added, “I must say, of all the things I thought I might do today, this wasn’t one of them.” 

Sabé laughed, glad for the small break in tension. “Glad I can keep you on your toes.”

The door slid aside, causing them all to look up. A Kiffar bride and groom appeared, broad smiles on their faces as they departed with their Dug witnesses. The tall, indigo-skinned Chagrian registrar stood in the doorway, waving the new group forwards. 

Obi-Wan held out a hand. “We must keep up appearances,” he said quietly.

“Of course,” Sabé said, clasping it. His fingers tightened around hers, flooding her with sudden reassurance. “Shall we?”

He nodded, and they entered the room, their companions dutifully following. The room was small but not unpleasant, softly lit by dim lamps and the glow of the signs outside. There was a second collection of ill-matched chairs, and a lone table. The Chagrian stood before it as if he were the holiest of high priests rather than a simple registrar. As they approached, he looked them up and down. 

“Hmm. Not often I get one of you lot in here.”

Master Mundi and Master Secura exchanged a concerned glance, evidently troubled by the term ‘not often’. 

“Thought this sort of thing was against your rules.”

Obi-Wan stepped forward and pressed a pile of credit chips into the registrar’s palm. “This is for your silence.” Another pile in the opposite hand. “And to ensure that you tell me immediately if anyone comes asking about this.” 

The Chagrian looked a little taken aback, but readily pocketed the credits. Extra money on top of his fee would always be agreeable. He broke out in a grin. “Okay then, folks, shall we begin? Bride and groom, write down your full names here." He slid a piece of flimsi across the table towards them. "Witnesses, take a seat.” 

When the technicalities were sorted, the unusual bride and groom stood side by side in front of the registrar. Sabé inhaled deeply through her nose, keeping calm as best she could. 

“Right," the registrar began, his entire attitude casual and nonchalant. Strangely enough, Sabé found that his unprofessionalism lessened her nervousness. "My name is Chas Durell. I'm a fully licensed registrar. Marriage, according to the law of Coruscant, is the union of two or more beings, depending on cultural traditions.” He cleared his throat and glanced down at his flimsi pad. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Sabé Syrena Simmonite.” He paused, glancing up at Sabé. “Seriously, honey? What were your parents on when they named you?”

Sabé simply slanted one eyebrow, a move that was equally as threatening as pulling a dagger from a sheath. 

The Chagrian shrugged and continued. “If anyone here knows of any reason why these two may not be lawfully joined, speak it now or forever hold your peace.” 

Master Mundi and Master Secura remained silent. 

“Cool,” murmured Durell. “Hate that part.” Aloud, he said, “Would you face each other, please?”

Sabé and Obi-Wan obediently moved. 

“Who gives this woman to this man?” 

Master Mundi stood up. “I do.” Under the registrar’s instruction, he placed Sabé’s left hand in Obi-Wan’s right, then returned to his seat. 

“Who gives this man to this woman?”

“I do,” said Master Secura, stepping forward to join Obi-Wan’s left hand with Sabé’s right. 

“Excellent. Sabé Syrena Simmonite, do you freely bind yourself to Obi-Wan Kenobi, to be his companion, partner, aide and comfort for all the days of your life?” 

Forcing her dry mouth to work, Sabé muttered, “I do.” 

“And you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, do you promise to forsake all others, to be Sabé’s comfort and confidant, friend, lover and companion for your mortal days?” 

“I do,” Obi-Wan answered. 

“Do you have the rings?” Durell asked. 

Sabé tensed, a brief stab of panic shooting through her gut. The rings had slipped her mind completely. Then she felt Obi-Wan squeeze her hands in encouragement. Master Mundi stepped forward, holding two plain silver bands. Sabé could not help feeling embarrassment mixed with her relief. She knew she should have organised them herself, but she had been in no fit state to remember details. 

Durell took the rings from Master Mundi and held them in his palm. “The rings are a symbol of your love, unbroken and shining. They show the galaxy the vows you make here today.”

He handed the rings over, and Sabé and Obi-Wan carefully slid them into place. 

“All right,” the registrar finished brightly. “You have exchanged vows and rings. By the power vested in me by the office of the Supreme Chancellor, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss.”

Sabé and Obi-Wan looked at each other, united in sudden wariness. Sabé hadn’t exactly forgotten that part of the ceremony, but neither had she allowed herself a single moment to think about it. Unwilling to jeopardise their cover, they hesitantly drifted towards each other. Obi-Wan lightly placed his hands on her waist. They drew closer until their lips touched. 

Sabé felt the spark of it like a lightning bolt, unexpected and thrilling. Her heartbeat increased to what she feared would be an audible rate. Her body grew warm, starting from the point where their lips met, travelling all the way down to her boots. It was a swift, chaste kiss, nothing more, yet it was somehow more intense, more consequential than any of the seemingly passionate kisses she had exchanged with her old flames. 

Even more surprising, and – she was hesitant to admit – concerning was the immediate feeling of rightness. Kissing Obi-Wan felt like opening the cover of a well-loved book; familiar, exciting, comforting. Like a homecoming. It was an ill-advised train of thought, and she fought to quash it. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t this. 

When they pulled apart they gazed at each other, equal looks of surprise, confusion and something else unspoken on their faces. 

For the first time, Sabé looked at him and did not see her old friend, but a handsome, intelligent, compassionate man. For the first time, she truly studied the features she knew so well: the casual sweep of the red-brown hair that he’d grown out with much relief as soon as he’d become a Knight, the piercing azure blue eyes that held an intensity she’d been somehow unaware of, the neatly-trimmed beard that he’d grown to appear more like a tutor, that he now wore comfortably and suited. He was not the cocky-yet-considerate young Padawan that she’d first become friends with. He had matured, grown stronger, become more sure of himself and his place in the scheme of things. He was still her old friend with the dry sense of humour, and yet she was suddenly seeing him in a different light altogether. 

And he, she could read it in his eyes, was seeing her in the same way. 

_Gods_ , she thought, _what is this?_

Master Mundi and Master Secura did not appear to have noticed anything amiss, and got to their feet in preparation to leave. 

Sabé and Obi-Wan carefully avoided each other’s gaze while they signed a flimsi and data version of the register, and paid Durell his fee. As they left, they passed the next couple of grooms, one human and one Pantoran man, awaiting their turn. They all returned to the speeder in silence. 

Back in the lines of traffic, Master Mundi shot them both a glance and said, “We’ll drop you off at the safe-house, then report to the Council.” 

“Do you need me there for that?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“No, don’t worry. I’m sure it will only be a brief report.” 

Master Mundi guided the speeder to a residential district in the shadow of the Jedi Temple. It was not as upmarket as the senatorial district where Padmé lived, but neither was it rundown or rough. They halted outside a tall, unremarkable apartment building, and Obi-Wan and Sabé disembarked. 

Master Mundi fixed his fellow Jedi with a steady look. “Remember, Obi-Wan, your first priority is Miss Simmonite’s…sorry, Mrs. Kenobi’s protection. When the Council has decided how to proceed with the investigation, we will inform you.” 

Obi-Wan nodded his understanding. 

Sabé stepped forward. “Thank you for everything the Jedi have done for me,” she said, addressing them all. "I appreciate it more than I can say."

Master Mundi gave a smile. "You're welcome, Sabé. Have a pleasant evening." 

He and Master Secura bade them farewell, and the speeder rose and departed, leaving the newlyweds alone to ponder their new situation and the inconvenient possibilities sparked by the simplest of chaste kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Unavoidable-kissing-in-a-fake-relationship trope? Sign me up! The vows don't belong to me, they appear in the 'Union' graphic novel by Michael Stackpole. Only a short chapter this time because this felt like a natural stopping place.
> 
> Not sure when the next chapter will be up. I have some health stuff to deal with :/ Hopefully I can make my two weekly schedule.


	8. Unity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is rated for mild suggestiveness. Nothing major, but I'm just being safe.

**Chapter Eight – Unity.**

 

The safe-house apartment was pleasant, decorated in soft blues and warm creams, but nowhere near the opulent luxury that Sabé was used to seeing in her service to Naboo’s hierarchy. However, it suited her better for its simplicity, as she couldn’t abide fuss. 

As she and Obi-Wan stood surveying their temporary home, she turned to him. 

“I can never thank you enough for everything you’ve done.” Her words were soft, full of sincerity. 

He waved off her thanks with a modest smile, but she persevered. She'd asked so much of him, and he hadn't let her down, even on matters that she'd had no right to ask.

“No, I mean it," she insisted. "You’re a true friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I will never forget this. Some day I hope I can repay you.” 

“When you find a way, let me know,” he said diplomatically. 

She nodded, smiling briefly, and set about exploring the rest of the apartment. It did not take long, as it wasn't large, but it gave her something to do to briefly escape from the growing awkwardness. She still couldn’t explain the sudden change in her view of her old friend. A simple kiss should not have sparked such a reaction. It confused her, and confusion made her feel insecure. There was a hint of attraction between them now that hadn’t been there before, and she wasn't sure what to do about it. 

_You don’t need to do anything_ , she told herself. _This means nothing._

But she knew that wasn't exactly true. There was a clause in the marriage law that demanded consummation. Considering why it had been created in the first place, such a clause made sense, even if it seemed hopelessly outdated now. Sabé hadn’t thought too hard about it, assuming that they would lie if the topic ever came up. They weren’t married under the law, but their union needed to be water-tight. Since that kiss, a traitorous little part of her had wondered whether they would dare to truly make it secure.

Before the ceremony, the thought of doing anything _other_ than lying about it hadn’t been an option, because to do so would be embarrassing, and demand more from Obi-Wan than the Code strictly allowed. (Although she couldn't see how a single encounter could be construed as an attachment.) But now...the possibility didn't seem as strange as it had done. That kiss had changed everything. 

Sabé sighed, feeling ill at ease and confused. And confused about being confused. She didn't want to feel it. It had just made everything awkward, and it was an annoyance she hadn’t anticipated. She couldn't help wondering if Obi-Wan was feeling the same as she was. She didn't know if she had the courage to ask. 

Thinking about it caused a wave of nerves to come crashing to the forefront of her reflections. Nervousness was something she wasn’t used to, and she didn’t care for the way it invaded her life and made simple tasks difficult. 

_Just go and talk to him_ , she scolded herself. _He's a rational person, like you're supposed to be._

Chastened, she squared her shoulders and headed out to her new husband. 

He had discarded his robe, which was draped across the back of the sofa, and was standing at the window, watching the streams of traffic move across the night sky. He had drawn all the blinds in an attempt to avoid spies and the HoloNet but he was able to observe the view thanks to the genius of the design, which let insiders look out but kept outsiders from looking in. He already looked at home. A by-product of constantly being on the move, she suspected: it didn't take him long to settle in anywhere. 

“Everything okay?” he asked without turning. 

She could see the start of his profile against the dim light from outside. 

“Yes, fine," she answered, pleased that her voice was still level. "This place is ideal."

"Good."

A momentary stillness fell, and she found herself nervously polishing the toe of her boot on the carpet, something she'd done all the time as a child. She made herself stand up straight, clearing her throat before speaking again. 

"I, uh, I'm going to need to go back to Naboo sometime soon. I have to pack my things and put my affairs in order. Would you be able to accompany me?”

“Of course," he answered easily, the tilt of his head implying that he was looking at her reflection. "You are my assignment now, Sabé, I can accompany you wherever you need to go.” 

“Oh.” She nodded, unsure how to react. She’d never been an assignment before. She wondered what he was thinking, whether the marriage felt like a betrayal to the feelings he'd had for his duchess. She hoped that they hadn't made a terrible mistake. 

The silence stretched on between them. All of Sabé’s good intentions concerning her calm state of mind floated out the viewport, and her anxiety returned with vengeance. She caught Obi-Wan’s subtle wince as he sensed it, and her cheeks reddened. 

He turned, appraising her with folded arms, his expression placid and reflective. 

"What's on your mind?" he asked calmly. 

"Nothing," Sabé shot out, immediately regretting it. It was so painfully clear that it wasn't true. 

Obi-Wan fixed her with a look, raising an eyebrow, and she knew she should stop even attempting to fool him. 

Sabé sighed, one corner of her lips twisting up in a little scowl of uncertainty. "I wasn't sure if I should raise this topic, but..." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "The marriage can be annulled on grounds of...of, um, non-consummation. I just wanted to check whether that's something you're okay lying about...because...uh, because..." She trailed off, then shook her head, sighing nosily. "Gods, do you have any idea how awkward you make this when you just stand there calmly?"

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together, clearly trying not to smile. She felt a stab of indignant annoyance. 

"I'm sorry," he said, not entirely sincerely. 

"Sure," she muttered, unconvinced. "Anyway, I wasn't sure of the Jedi policy where lying is concerned. It doesn't seem like something you'd be a hundred percent okay with, but...the alternative..." 

He left the window, crossing the room to stand in front of her, an arm's length away. Sabé felt the absurd instinct to step back, his sudden nearness startling her. 

"What's _your_ policy where lying is concerned?" he asked softly. 

It was a thinly-veiled double-edged question, and she narrowed her eyes slightly, scrutinising him. She wasn’t sure how far he’d disobey the Code. Yes, he’d done it before, as she’d learned earlier, but that had been for love, not…whatever it was they had discovered between them. 

"I...I'm...I think I prefer not to," she said, feeling dry-mouthed as she realised how honest she was being. "But," she couldn't help adding, "sometimes it...becomes necessary. To...save feelings. Sometimes it's the right thing to do." 

"Perhaps," he admitted, dropping the pretence of the topic. "We shouldn't. I'd be bending the rules, and I can't pretend otherwise...but also, I can't help but feel uncomfortable at the thought of there being any loopholes in this marriage. It...feels like tempting fate."

Sabé nodded, understanding his viewpoint. She agreed with it, even though a foolish part of her felt stung at his clinical reasoning. 

"You, er, you're right," she spoke up. "Daedrin could be a nasty piece of work rather than just someone I don't like. It would be better not to leave any loopholes, like you said, that he could exploit later. Or that my parents could find out about." 

They held each other's gaze for a drawn-out moment, studying, scrutinising, making sure that they were completely on the same page. For two people considering letting themselves get caught up in each other, Sabé thought they were being surprisingly logical. The way they were talking still made it seem like a task they had ahead of them rather than anything more intimate. She wasn't sure she was comfortable with that, but at the same time she didn't want to do anything they'd later regret. 

The spark, whatever it was, jumped between them like lightning, and she suddenly knew beyond doubt that their more selfish impulses would win. While that realisation made her stomach flip with anticipation, it also worried her. She didn't want to be the cause of anything that would steer Obi-Wan off the light path. That thought was enough to stop her cold. 

"No. I can't," she mumbled abruptly, taking a clumsy, panicked step away from him. 

Although his demeanour was still calm, his eyes revealed what he was feeling: namely, the same as she was; the spark _and_ the uncertainty. 

“Obi-Wan,” she began with a sigh. “It’s…I think it’s unwise. We’re being self-seeking, both of us. We’re talking about erasing loopholes, but we both know that’s only a small part of it. This is about taking what we want, because we’ve suddenly discovered what that is.” 

She opted for harsh honesty, because she knew she should speak plainly, yet she felt her cheeks burn red, and her fists clenched at her sides. 

Obi-Wan still gazed at her thoughtfully, frowning a little as he processed her words. She couldn’t tell if he agreed with her or not. Sabé watched him for a while, finding his silence grating. 

“Any time you want to join in this conversation, go right ahead,” she snapped, embarrassment-fuelled anger flaring. 

His gaze sharpened under hers, and he looked mildly apologetic. 

“I understand what you’re saying,” he told her, as if the awkward pause hadn’t happened at all, “but I can’t see it as cynically as you do.”

“What do you mean?”

She expected an articulate, well thought-out answer. Instead, he replied with five simple words.

“It doesn’t feel like selfishness.”

Sabé fell silent, contemplating. She wouldn’t have accepted such a vague argument from anyone else, but a Jedi’s feelings held far more significance than others. If Obi-Wan felt that anything was even _slightly_ off, they wouldn’t be having the conversation. She’d known him long enough to be certain of that. 

She thought about the rules he was bound by, the Jedi Code. No possessiveness: there wasn’t a shred of that in him anyway. No attachment: theirs was a marriage of convenience, their relationship firmly platonic. Mostly. Falling deeper into introspection, Sabé examined the way she was feeling, suddenly afraid that it might be more than it should be. There was nothing inappropriate between them. There was attraction, there was potential for more than that, but it wasn’t anything lasting. It wasn’t _love_. If there was something she should be good at recognising, it was passion without love. She’d felt that before, seven years ago, during her ill-fated relationship with Killric Devennon. 

And Obi-Wan was right, it _would_ make the marriage secure, and she couldn’t deny that that was a comforting thought. It seemed to be Obi-Wan’s _only_ thought, however, and she suddenly worried that she was making a fool of herself thinking that there was anything more going on. She’d seen it, or thought she had, but doubt crept in regardless. 

Tentative, unsure if she was allowed to ask, she ventured quietly, “Do you feel it too?”

She had to know, however much it altered the tension in the room. 

Obi-Wan hesitated, gazing at her with those piercing blue eyes, clearly debating his answer. Then, almost reluctantly, he nodded. 

“And the first time as well?” she pressed. “During the ceremony?”

This time he answered immediately, with plain honesty. “Yes.”

Sabé nodded, an almost absurdly polite gesture. 

“Does it make a difference?” he added. 

She bit her lip, considering the question. Knowing she should pay him the courtesy of the same honest answers he’d given her, she examined her reflections critically. She was slightly embarrassed that she wanted him, feeling it was something that she shouldn’t be dabbling in, that he should be off-limits. To have confirmation that those desires were reciprocated lifted some of that embarrassment away. She was taken aback by just how much it changed her perception. 

“Yes,” she replied, her slight surprise leaking into her tone. “It makes a difference.” 

He stepped towards her, and she took half a step forward herself, closing the gap almost without thinking. They were close enough to touch, but neither took the initiative. 

“Sometimes my path is crystal clear,” Obi-Wan explained to her, his voice quiet, “and sometimes I can only rely on instincts. This is one of the latter times.”

Sabé wetted her dry lips. “And…what do your instincts say?”

His fingertips came up to trace her jaw line, his hesitant touch lighter than the finest mist. Her skin tingled at the contact, sending a flutter of tiny shivers through her body. 

“Much the same as yours, I imagine,” he murmured, leaning in. 

Sabé tilted her head up, meeting his lips with hers. Everything she’d begun to feel at the ceremony came flooding back, washing away any residual doubts, and any leftover strangeness at being wrapped in an embrace with her old friend. Pulling him closer by a handful of tunic, Sabé gave herself over to her instincts. She let herself get swept away on a tide of awareness, knowing he was doing the same, that they were in it together, whether it was bending the rules or not. She still wasn't sure, but the more she kissed him, the less she cared. They would deal with the consequences later. For now, there was nothing but the two of them. 

* * *

An indistinguishable amount of time later found Sabé quiet and contemplative. She lay on her front, her arms folded across a pillow, her hair splayed in a mass that was half waves, half tangles. Her head rested on her arms, tilted towards her companion. Obi-Wan lay on his back beside her, seemingly as deep in thought as she was. They were both peaceful, free from any lingering shyness, comfortable enough with each other to remain side by side in their jumble of sheets.

Sabé allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction as she relaxed, safe in the knowledge that she was well and truly free from an unwanted marriage, and that nothing could threaten the security of the new one. The trouble was far from over, she knew that, but she was out of harm's way for the moment. She had done it on her own terms. 

Moreover, she had discovered something about herself and Obi-Wan that she hadn't known existed, and rather than make things awkward, it actually seemed to have eliminated the residual unease. She didn't quite understand the logic of it, but she wasn't complaining. She wasn't complaining about _any_ of it. 

Obi-Wan shifted onto his side, glancing down at her. He reached out and lightly traced his fingertips across the tattoo at the base of her spine. 

“Your Order of Sanctuary mark,” he said, phrasing it as a question he already knew the answer to. 

She nodded. “Let’s hope it won’t end up displayed on a crime scene image.”

“I won’t let that happen.” 

She shot him a smile. “I know. Neither will I, if I can help it.”

“The odds are good then," he mused lightly. "You should be all right.” 

“That’s a relief.” 

There was a companionable silence. Sabé realised that Obi-Wan’s palm still rested on her back. She found the warmth oddly comforting. 

“Do you not think,” she wondered aloud, “that this should feel…stranger than it does?” 

He considered the question for a long moment, a frown creasing his forehead. “Perhaps,” he said at length. “But you and I know each other well, we’re both practical people.”

“Even so, this is not a normal situation. And then there’s what happened at the ceremony.” 

“You don’t think that that was just simple attraction?”

“No, I don’t.” She halted, closing her eyes briefly. “I'm sorry, I know how that sounded. I didn’t mean that there wasn’t attraction there, I just meant–”

“I know what you meant,” he interrupted, apparently amused by her flustering. 

She pulled a face before continuing. “I just meant that it was unusually sudden. It was just there...in an instant. In my experience, that doesn’t happen. It’s either there from the beginning or–” She came to an abrupt stop as she examined her own feelings. With a pang she realised that it _had_ been there from the beginning. It had been something that she had never consciously acknowledged, that she had been able to suppress out of respect for his duty and their friendship. 

“Oh,” she muttered. 

“Something you’d like to confess?” he asked innocently, unable to hide a hint of a smirk. 

For a moment Sabé was reminded of his younger self, as she'd first known him, when he'd still been trying to shake off his arrogant phase. His teasing, as always, was purely benevolent. Deep down, she didn't really mind it, but still she gave an irritated huff. 

“No,” she said stubbornly. “There’s no point, you know what I'm thinking!”

He laughed, but did not deny it. 

She pressed her face to the pillow and mumbled, “Am I never going to have any secrets ever again?”

She spoke lightly, but she meant it, and wondered if she should work on some kind of shielding technique. For whatever reason, he was able to read her more easily than she was entirely comfortable with. She wasn't convinced that it was solely due to the Force, either. 

Obi-Wan's expression sobered. “Would it make you feel better if I said that I have felt it too, almost since the beginning?”

She turned towards him again. “Not if you’re just saying it for the sake of it,” she quipped, realising that he was levelling the playing field, so to speak, but unable to accept his words at face value. 

“I’m not,” he assured her warmly. 

Still not able to let it lie, Sabé pressed on, “But how can you have? It’s forbidden, isn’t it?”

“They can’t stop us from feeling," he told her conversationally. His expression was thoughtful yet confident, implying that he'd considered the issue before. "It’s how we act on it, or don’t act on it, that matters.”

“And you didn’t act on it,” she mentioned unnecessarily. 

“No. I was wiser when I met you, with the experiences of Siri and Satine behind me. I was less inclined to rush into things. And besides, I had a lot on my mind. There was...a darkness that I could sense almost constantly while Qui-Gon and I were making our way to you. It was somewhat distracting." 

"That was the Sith Lord that killed him?" Sabé surmised.

"I think so. I _hope_ so, anyway. Otherwise, it's still out there."

A poignant hush fell, lending a bleaker undertone to the atmosphere. Sabé rested her chin on her folded arms, eager to break the mood and get the conversation back on track. 

"I...felt it from the start," she admitted, "but I never really acknowledged it consciously, or even fully understood it. I was very young back then, still quite naive. And you were kind of intimidating, you know." 

His face broke into a surprised, amused smile. " _I_ was intimidating?" he repeated. 

"You were!" she insisted. "I had never seen a Jedi before, and you leapt down off that walkway and starting cutting down droids faster than any warrior I'd ever seen. You had this...aura of power, even as an apprentice. It was..." She trailed off, shrugging. 

"Intimidating," he finished for her. 

She nodded unapologetically, smiling as he gave a light chuckle. 

"I was very young," she repeated, defensive. 

"You were an adult by Naboo standards," Obi-Wan helpfully pointed out, laughing when she turned a narrow-eyed glare his way. 

Sabé dropped her frown when he laughed, finding it infectious. Another moment of silence fell as they considered the new revelations. Neither of them seemed to be terribly surprised by the knowledge now they had grown used to the idea. Sabé wondered if they had somehow always been aware that they were ignoring their attraction, and it had become one of the many elements that made up their relationship. 

“You’re thinking too much again,” Obi-Wan said matter-of-factly. 

Sabé shot him a look that was part defensive, part curious. “How do you know that? I might be daydreaming.” 

“You always frown when you’re thinking.”

“Hmph,” she grumbled, turning on her back and drawing the covers up over her chest. Obi-Wan pulled his hand back to his side. 

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, his expression open and accommodating.

She bit her lip, debating whether to be completely frank with him. “I was just…thinking about the fact that we seem rather at ease for a couple in a marriage of convenience.”

He nodded understandingly, as if the same thought had occurred to him too. “Well, we’re no ordinary couple, and we’re both rational people. But you’re right. Tomorrow I’ll sleep in the other bedroom.” In a strange tone that seemed almost contrite, he added, “Or I could move there tonight, if you prefer.” 

She paused, considering his question. It would be better if he went straight away, then they could carry on with their lives as they intended to: amiably, but firmly separate. Despite what had been said earlier in the evening, she knew they were walking a knife’s edge with regards to the Jedi Code and what was deemed acceptable. And yet… 

She met his gaze, so sincere, so compassionate…so intensely distracting. She marvelled that she’d never noticed it before, back when she’d placed him firmly in the category of ‘friend’ where there were no blurred edges. But then there were many things that she’d never noticed before that she suddenly could not help seeing. She’d never known her own thoughts could be so superficial, and they made her blush to think of, but she couldn’t restrict her observant nature only to things that mattered. The lean muscles, which had previously remained safely concealed beneath his tunic, made for an active, athletic physique that she couldn’t help but admire. Now she knew how it felt to be held in his arms, to let her fingertips skim across the planes of his chest and watch how he reacted to her touch. She had never directed any particular attention to his hands before, strong yet gentle, his palms calloused from rigorous weapons training, but now she couldn’t help remembering how they’d felt tracing paths on her skin, holding her tight in moments of shared urgency. 

And, of course, now that she knew he could kiss the way he’d kissed her earlier, she would never be able to forget it. She had never imagined that a kiss could be so much at once, that it could convey passion, admiration, gentle tenderness, raw hunger, and the fond affection that she had already valued between them. A curious part of her wondered what it would have been like if they had been in love, and that element was added to the already-heady mix. She shut that thought down right away, concerned about where it might lead. 

Caught up in all her conflicting thoughts, Sabé wasn’t sure if she could really go back to how things had been before, but she was very much aware that she had no choice. But that was tomorrow. Surely they could have a single night to explore what they’d found. A single night out of their entire lives wouldn’t shatter the Jedi Code. 

Feeling almost shy, she ventured softly, “Will it be seen as attachment or possession if you stay?”

Obi-Wan hesitated, then slowly shook his head, calmly awaiting her next, inevitable question. 

“It’s not an obligation anymore,” she felt compelled to point out. “Would you regret it?”

A brief frown crossed his face. “Regret it? Of course not, what makes you say that?”

She looked away, fighting the blush that threatened to stain her cheeks. “I thought perhaps it would make things…awkward.” 

“I think we’re past awkwardness now. But I’m a Jedi, I’m trained to let things go. I wouldn’t want you to bear regrets or…get too involved.”

That he hit so close to the path her own thoughts had taken unnerved her, but she brushed it aside. “I have my feet on the ground,” she assured him. It was the truth, but she still wasn’t sure that it would be enough. “I don’t know what will happen,” she said, working through her reflections. “Not with this Daedrin thing or the war or any of it. I can’t be sure of anything anymore. But…” She looked up to meet his eyes again. “This is real to me. I don’t think I want to let it go just yet. Can we not have tonight for ourselves and take duty back in the morning?” Her expression was calm and quietly expectant, and she braced herself for his refusal. 

Obi-Wan made no reply other than the steady intensity of his gaze. Just as Sabé was about to babble something to break the silence, he placed a hand on her cheek, drawing closer. Their lips met, her arms twined around his neck, and she once again gave herself up to the intensity of their unexpected connection. 

 * * *

Sabé wasn’t surprised to find herself alone when she woke the next morning. Although she had no regrets about what had happened the night before, she was relieved to see the empty space beside her. Waking up together seemed…too domestic, too comfortable. It would have bred more awkwardness than any of the previous night’s activities could have. She couldn’t remember if he’d held her while they slept. She wasn’t sure if it was wise to find out. Obi-Wan probably knew, but she’d let him keep that secret to himself. 

Sabé stretched, wincing as she was reacquainted with sore muscles she hadn’t used in a while, and let herself sprawl for a moment. Lying in was a luxury she rarely enjoyed. If she was awake, she was up, not wanting to waste any of her day. And, of course, being a handmaiden meant utilising every minute of time in the most efficient way possible. 

After a quick glance at the chrono, she hauled herself out of bed, wrapping the sheet around herself and smoothing down her hair as best as she was able. She ventured out to the lounge, where she found Obi-Wan deep in meditation. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his face radiating an enviable level of tranquillity. Sabé crept away, leaving him in peace, and retreated to the fresher. 

Wider awake when she emerged, she tugged on her borrowed security uniform, looking forward to having access to her own clothes again once they reached Padmé's apartment. Sitting in front of the room's single mirror, she braided her damp hair into a thick, chestnut rope, securing it with a simple tie. 

Thus attired, she wandered back out to the lounge, where Obi-Wan had not moved a muscle. Although he appeared to be in deep concentration, his eyes flickered open as she approached, and he greeted her with a warm smile. 

“Good morning,” he said, his tone neutral and friendly, eliminating any doubts Sabé may have had about potential embarrassment between them. 

“Good morning,” she answered, returning the smile. "Sorry if I disturbed your meditation." 

He shook his head at her apology. "You didn't, don't worry." He got fluidly to his feet, automatically dusting his tunic down despite the fact that the carpet was spotless. 

"Have you had breakfast?" Sabé asked, trying not to be envious of his seemingly-effortless grace of movement. Idly, she considered how impressed her mother would be to see someone with such natural coordination. 

"Not yet, I was waiting for you. And before you ask, no, I haven't been up long." He shot her an impish grin, and she darted her tongue out at him without thinking. He chuckled in response, and Sabé tried not to flush at her immature retort. 

"Well then," she said, heading towards the kitchen that was tucked into one corner of the lounge, "I'd better do something about that. Breakfast, I mean." She paused, pivoting to look back at his amused expression. "I'm not the most domestic person, I'll warn you now. But I _can_ do this. So...go back to meditating, I'll let you know when it's ready." 

Obi-Wan gave her a quick salute, his face deadpan, then laughed when she wrinkled her nose at him. 

Smiling to herself, Sabé set about making a pot of caf, her morning priorities ingrained after many years of early wake-up calls. Soon the smell of the hot liquid filled the apartment, mixing nicely with the warm scent of toasted flatbread. Obi-Wan wandered over to investigate, his eyes lighting up when he spied the caf. Sabé kept her amusement hidden as he poured them both a cup, glad to know that the Jedi Knight had his harmless weaknesses just like she did. 

"Where did you find the bread?" he asked as he stirred his drink. "I thought I'd need to go on a supply run."

"It was frozen. There are a couple of other loaves in there too." Lips quirking in a smile, she added, “The Council thinks of everything.” 

They moved their simple meal to the small table nearby, eating in companionable silence. Obi-Wan was openly amused at Sabé’s affection for caf, and she took his teasing good-naturedly. It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that it was partly his fault that she hadn’t got much sleep, but she thought it unwise to joke about it, even though she would have paid money to see the look on his face. 

“What are your plans for today then?” he asked her conversationally, hands wrapped around his own caf cup. 

Sabé considered the question with pursed lips. “Well,” she said thoughtfully, “Daedrin thinks I'm with Padmé today, so I suppose that’s where I should be.” 

He nodded in agreement. “Yes, we still can’t rule out the possibility that he’s watching the places he expects you to be.” 

“What if it’s reported that I'm in your company a lot?” she asked. 

Obi-Wan shrugged, seeming more nonchalant than she suspected he truly was. “That’s inevitable. The news will come out eventually. The registrar’s bound to talk.” 

She raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. “You think so?”

“I do.”

“Even though you paid him off?”

“Especially since we paid him off.”

Understanding dawned. “Because Daedrin will still be bothering me if it remains a secret,” she surmised. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan acknowledged with a nod. “It has to come out, but it must look like we tried to hide it.”

Meeting his eyes, she ventured, “It, uh, it won’t be easy, you know. When it comes out, even if it’s not widely known…”

“I know,” Obi-Wan acknowledged, in the calming tones he was so proficient at. “I’ll be temporarily suspended from the Order. But my duty is to protect you, and I will do so, no matter the complications.” 

She thought for an instant that she saw a glimmer of the previous night’s intensity in his gaze, but it was gone so fast that she concluded that it was her imagination. 

_Idiot_ , she scolded herself.

Firmly telling herself that she was not disappointed, she turned her attention to her caf cup. 

After breakfast, they caught an air taxi to Padmé’s apartment block. Sabé kept a look out for her parents’ spies, soon spotting one of them sitting on a bench outside the main entrance. He eyed her suspiciously as they passed, then went back to the holomag he appeared to be reading. Obi-Wan shot her a sidelong glance as her anger spiked, and she shook her head minutely. 

She explained everything in the turbolift, and was reminded that she wouldn’t have to worry about the spies for much longer. Since she knew that that meant she needed to confront her parents, the thought did not comfort her as much as it should have. 

At the apartment, Padmé welcomed them graciously. Obi-Wan did not react to her lack of surprise at seeing him there, choosing instead to greet her in his usual gallant fashion. The senator led them into the lounge, calling Teckla for tea. Then, when they were settled, she turned to Sabé. 

“Well?” she said, not bothering to hide her curiosity. 

Sabé gave a single nod. “It’s done. I'm safe for now.” 

Padmé nodded back, smiling briefly. “I’m glad to hear that,” she said, the truth of the statement plain to hear. “You’re a good man, Obi-Wan.” 

He acknowledged the compliment with a warm look, but added simply, “Sabé is a friend. I wasn’t going to stand aside and see her married to a man of dubious intentions.”

Padmé interest seemed piqued by his words. “You don’t trust Senator Daedrin?”

“I don’t. The Jedi have…suspicions that he is not all he appears.”

Between them, Sabé and Obi-Wan relayed the details of the attack on the Order of Sanctuary member. Padmé was predictably horrified at the story, and immediately offered to do what she could. Sabé and Obi-Wan had discussed Padmé’s involvement at length, and Obi-Wan had eventually been convinced that the senator could help. This had pleased Sabé, as she had no intention of hiding anything from her friends. 

“Surely this won’t be allowed to continue?” Padmé said, her brow furrowed. 

“I’m not sure how to proceed at this point,” Sabé admitted. 

“You’ll need to be careful,” Padmé advised. “Chancellor Palpatine won’t take kindly to an attempt to smear one of his best diplomats. Daedrin must be extremely convincing to have gotten this far.”

Obi-Wan nodded sagely. “I agree. We’ll have to proceed slowly. The Jedi Council is aware of the situation. They will deal with it, but it will take time. I would appreciate it if you didn’t speak of this to anyone else.”

“Of course,” Padmé said at once, “I understand.” 

Sabé took a long sip of tea, relishing the light, faintly bitter taste. She had another favour to ask. It felt as if she’d done nothing _but_ ask favours over the last few days, and she silently vowed to even the balance when she was able. 

“Padmé, were you serious when you talked about employing me?” she ventured over her tea cup. 

Padmé seemed amused by her apologetic tone, the corner of her lips twitching as she nodded. “I was. Do you want the job?”

“The Jedi Council thinks I’ll be safer here under Obi-Wan’s protection. You _did_ say you’d been meaning to employ another handmaiden.”

“I have. Or rather, Captain Typho informs me that I’ve been meaning to take on another handmaiden.” 

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, and Sabé smiled to herself. 

“In all seriousness though,” Padmé went on, “after Cordé and Versé…I didn’t want another handmaiden to die for me.”

Sabé threw her a sympathetic look. “I know. But if it helps, it seems likely that someone already wants to kill me, so being in your employment won’t make that possibility any more probable than it already is.” 

The senator let out a burst of laughter, and Obi-Wan politely hid his smirk behind his hand.

“There’s a kind of skewed logic to that, I guess,” Padmé conceded. 

“I can take care of myself, you know,” Sabé pacified. “And Obi-Wan will be around to make sure nothing happens to me.” She shot him a glance. “Won’t you?”

“If I must,” he said dryly. 

“Yes, you must.” Facing Padmé again, she continued, “If you’ll have me then, I’d be honoured to return to your service.”

Wiping the levity from her face and formally extending a hand, Padmé said, “Welcome aboard, Lady Sabé.” 

Sabé clasped her friend’s hand, bowing her head. “Thank you, my lady.” 

Both of them dropped the ceremonial behaviour along with their hands. 

“I'll have to speak to the Queen,” Sabé said thoughtfully. “I hope she’ll understand. Not to make too much of my own importance, but the loss of me from her service may give weight to your arguments. I’m the handmaiden with the most experience, and one of only two Order members currently among her attendants. I may not be the best handmaiden ever, but I’m bound to leave a hole.” 

Padmé nodded her agreement. “That’s true. Let me broach the subject with her then. I can raise the topic of repealing the law at the same time, kill two birds with one stone.” 

“That would be good,” Sabé said eagerly. “Then I can speak to her in person when I go back to Naboo.” 

Padmé set her cup down, shifting forward in her seat. “I’ve been reading up on the law so I can begin forming an argument against it. I sent you a copy, did you read it?”

“Most of it,” Sabé assured.

“Most of it?” 

“Mm-hm. Why?” 

Padmé slanted an eyebrow, her expression disapproving. “Did you read the part about children?” 

Grimacing, Sabé briefly glanced away. “Um…not as such.”

Padmé gave an exasperated huff, and snatched up several pieces of flimsi. “How many times, Sabé? _How many times_ , read the small print!” 

Wide-eyed, the handmaiden leaned backwards at the heated words. “I had a lot on my mind!” she exclaimed, defensively shrugging. 

Obi-Wan raised a hand, his composed bearing completely at odds with the two women. “What does it say?” he asked. 

At the sound of his rational question, both women schooled their expressions, focusing on the matter at hand. 

“It states,” Padmé began, skimming the page, “that if a couple have not had children or a child after two standard years then the marriage can be dissolved.”

Sabé bit her lip in concern. “Oh. But...does that count for us? We didn't marry under the law.” 

“I would argue that it doesn't count," said Padmé, "but there may be those who would say the opposite. It would be best to avoid any additional complications." 

“I agree,” Obi-Wan answered, frowning. “It seems we’ve got ourselves a time limit then.”

“Surely the Jedi Council won’t take that long to find evidence against Daedrin?” Sabé spoke up.

“I’m not sure,” Obi-Wan admitted. “He’s left no traces so far. And we have to tread delicately. It could draw out longer than we hope.”

Padmé placed a reassuring hand on his sleeve. “I can’t help with that, but hopefully, if my campaign is persuasive enough, it won’t take that long to repeal the law.” 

“How did they get away with clauses like that?” Sabé mused, her eyes darting across the page. “I know they wanted to boost the population, but the lack of consideration for freedom of choice is annoyingly one-sided.”

Padmé tilted her head in thought. “Yes, I’ll be making that argument. And with regards to boosting the population, they probably thought they were being pretty generous with the time limit.”

“Probably,” Sabé said grudgingly. “That doesn’t explain why it only applies to women, though. Everyone had a duty to try and increase the number of children being born, yet it’s only the women who were bound by this stupid law.”

“Women didn’t have as much choice back then,” Padmé pointed out sombrely. “That’s why there’s all that stuff about consummating the marriage, even though young women these days have more of a physical relationship with their partners, and it’s not the big deal it used to be. Of course, you could always just lie about it, nobody’s going to check.”

Sabé inhaled a mouthful of tea and coughed. Obi-Wan patted her on the back, much to her mortification, and she resisted the urge to glare at him. 

“Don’t worry,” Padmé told him, her tone overly bright and cheerful, “she is house-trained, I guarantee it.” 

“Glad to hear it,” he replied with a smile. 

“I hate you both,” Sabé put in, wiping her streaming eyes. 

Padmé smiled serenely, her expression too benevolent for Sabé to stay mad at her for long. 

“Are you okay?” the senator asked, observing her scarlet-cheeked friend with one of the surprisingly-maternal looks that she was so good at. 

“Tea went down the wrong way,” Sabé explained lamely. It sounded stupid even to her. 

“I see.” Padmé did not appear to be convinced in the slightest, but sat back in her chair with a placid sigh. “Anyway, back on track, is it okay with the two of you if I use you as an example in my speech? By the time I come to give it, the news might be out. If it’s not, we can request that the information be kept confidential.”

Sabé exchanged a glance with Obi-Wan, her eyebrows raised in question. “I don’t have a problem with that,” she clarified.

“Nor me,” he said. 

Padmé gave a nod. “I’ll send you both a copy when I’m done writing it.” 

Obi-Wan excused himself to visit the fresher, and Sabé leaned towards Padmé, her voice hushed. 

“What do you think Anakin will think of all this?” she hissed. “Doesn’t he resent having to keep your marriage secret?” 

“Yes,” Padmé whispered back. “I don’t know what he’ll think. Sometimes he laughs about things and sees the logic behind them…other times he just lets his temper get the better of him.” 

“Split personality?” Sabé half-joked. It made her feel guilty when she didn’t trust Anakin, which happened occasionally.

Padmé let out a short laugh. “Sometimes I wonder,” she said, a touch of seriousness amongst the humour in her tone. 

Sabé frowned, picking up on her friend’s unease. But then Padmé’s expression cleared, and she fixed her with a steady gaze. 

“About the coughing,” she began. 

Sabé’s eyes narrowed. “What about it? I told you, my tea-” 

“Sabé, please. How long have we known one another?”

“Clearly too long,” she groused. 

“You two aren’t lying about it, are you?” Padmé theorised, her voice sounding almost gleeful, her eyes wide with amused disbelief. “You actually… Well. I wouldn’t have thought that Obi-Wan would-”

Sabé pressed her fingertips against her eyes. “Please stop talking.” 

“So…?” Padmé went on, ignoring her words. 

Lowering her hands, Sabé glanced at her, startled by her mischievous grin. Sometimes she tended to forget that underneath her determined, professional demeanour, Padmé was a regular young woman who took delight in the same things other young people did. 

“So what?” Sabé asked warily. 

Padmé quirked an eyebrow. “How was it?”

“That…is between Obi-Wan and myself,” the handmaiden spluttered, aware that her flustered behaviour was only causing her friend more entertainment. 

“Oh, come on.”

“Padmé, I refuse to discuss this with you!” 

Padmé opened her mouth to fire another comment, but promptly shut it again when Obi-Wan made a reappearance. 

_Rescued again_ , Sabé thought wryly.

“Padmé,” she said aloud, as if continuing a conversation, “you know I never pay attention to what the fashion houses are saying we should be wearing. It’s different for you, you’re a trend-setter.” 

“Really?” Padmé muttered, non-committal. 

There was a pause as Obi-Wan took his seat once more. His expression didn’t indicate that he had any idea of what they’d been discussing since he left, but Sabé had her suspicions regardless. No doubt she’d hear all about it later. 

Putting that aside, she turned her focus back to where it should be. “Oh, by the way,” she said, remembering, “Daedrin will probably contact you tomorrow, looking for me.” 

Padmé accepted the knowledge with a nod. “What do you want me to tell him?”

“Just an edited version of the truth,” Sabé decided. “That I and my belongings have gone to stay elsewhere.”

“He won’t believe that I don’t know where you are,” the senator pointed out.

“But it will be the truth, won’t it? You _don’t_ know where I am. Nobody does except the Jedi Council.” 

“Even so…”

“He may find out sooner or later,” Obi-Wan cut in. “Those spies of your parents’ will no doubt follow us back to the apartment building. Others could do the same.”

“But they won’t know which apartment we’re in,” Sabé mused aloud. “The building is huge.” 

“No, thankfully,” he agreed. “It will be easy to lose them once we’re inside. That won’t be a problem.”

“They can’t find out about our investigation either,” Sabé said fiercely. 

Obi-Wan threw her a glance. “There is no ‘ _our_ ’ investigation. It’s a Jedi investigation.” 

She fixed him with a warning look. “You can’t shut me out of this.”

“I’m afraid we can,” Obi-Wan shot back sternly. 

“I’m involved,” she insisted.

“Not to that extent.” 

Temper flaring, Sabé got angrily to her feet, addressing her words to the top of his head. “Look, I may not be the supreme beings you Jedi are, but I am a skilled warrior, and it is my sisters that are being targeted. I have a right to want to help them.” 

Obi-Wan rose placidly, putting her at a disadvantage of half a head’s height. Still she stared him down, her chin jutting up stubbornly. 

Padmé stood too, watching them both with an expression of amusement, feeling the familiar stirrings of suspicion about the nature of their relationship. There were elements at work that they seemed oblivious to, but Padmé was beginning to see. 

“You have the right,” Obi-Wan said, his voice firm, “but not the freedom. It’s not safe for you to be too involved.”

“You’ve never cared about my safety before now!” Sabé’s eyes widened the moment the words were out of her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she amended with a sigh. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just…I’ve been a security officer for years, and you’ve never said anything about being concerned.”

He met her gaze, his blue eyes full of sincerity. “Of course I was concerned, Sabé, as I am for all my friends who regularly face dangerous situations. But I know better than to interfere with your life.” 

“But that’s exactly what you’re doing now!” she retorted.

He fixed her with another steady look. “Security services is one thing, having you in a vulnerable position when there’s a murderer on the loose is something else entirely.”

“You’ve got double standards,” Sabé stated, pressing her fingertip to his chest in a series of prods, underlining each word. 

Obi-Wan remained maddeningly calm. He placed his hands on her upper arms and, annoyingly, she felt herself begin to relax. 

“The Jedi will do everything they can to protect your friends,” he told her. 

“I know,” she replied mildly, her voice quiet but laced with steel. “But I would be an asset.” 

Padmé was watching with rapt attention, her mouth slightly open in surprise. Sabé knew what she was thinking. There was no one in all the galaxy who could bring her out of one of her tempers, except, it seemed, this man. 

“I don’t deny it,” Obi-Wan admitted, “but the Council’s orders are–”

“Oh, orders!” she interrupted. “Do you always follow orders?”

“Always,” he said, not missing a beat. “Except when I don’t.”

She raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. 

Obi-Wan attempted a brief smile. “Sabé, you must realise that this is for your own benefit.”

She sighed noisily, unclenching her fists by her sides. “Of course I realise that. I know you mean well, but I don’t take kindly to being smothered. You may be my protector, but you’re not my babysitter, okay?”

He gave a short nod. “Okay. But I still can’t authorise your involvement in a Jedi matter.”

“I told you, I’m already involved.”

“No, you’re not.” He narrowed his eyes at her firm expression. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Of course I am, but all I hear is you disagreeing with me.” 

“Can’t think why that would be,” he muttered sarcastically. 

Padmé held up a hand. “Okay, enough. You’re obviously not going to agree on this, and there’s no point in going round in circles. You have other things to think about, like talking to Jago and Luma.” 

Sabé and Obi-Wan continued to stare at each other, their eyes defiant, bright with the spark of challenge. Then, almost in synch, they relented and retook their seats. 

“I'm sorry, Padmé,” Sabé said. “I’m usually better at keeping my cool.”

“You know I'm not stressing this point to annoy you,” Obi-Wan told her. “I know how capable you are, but the Council has spoken.”

She pulled a face and he let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. 

“Look,” he spoke up eventually, “give them a chance. See how it goes for a month or two, then if you still want to get involved…I’ll help you.” 

Sabé considered it, then nodded. “Deal.” 

While they shook hands on it, Padmé lowered her head and smiled to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you to everyone who sent good wishes about my health. I'm doing much better :)
> 
> There now follows a piece of shameless self-promotion. I hope you forgive me. I just uploaded my first vlog to You Tube, documenting the festival I went to over the weekend. If you're interested in vintage music and fashion or tea-obsessed British people, please check it out :) Search You Tube for Sweet Christabel. My icon is old-school Lara Croft and the video is Twinwood 2018. Thanks!


	9. Handmaiden, Jedi, and In-Laws

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It's still Sobiweek over on Tumblr. Go check out all the new content if you haven't already!

**Chapter Nine – Handmaiden, Jedi, and In-Laws.**

 

They spent the afternoon in one of the Jedi Temple’s large training rooms. It was one of the chambers that outsiders were never usually permitted to see, but Obi-Wan, sharing Sabé’s restlessness, allowed her access. They occupied one of the sparring mats alongside pairs of training Padawans. 

Sabé had brought her blunted practice swords, and she spent a few moments teaching him basic technique. His abilities with a lightsaber already made him a more than proficient swordsman, but he found setbacks in the unusual weight and balance of the weapon. The lightsaber held all its weight in the handle, whereas the sword’s was distributed along its entire length. 

Sabé won their first rounds with ease, but once he had grown used to it, which did not take long, he won continuously. Sabé was a good-natured loser, accepting a hand up from the mat when necessary and always bracing herself for the next duel. She was a natural with the sword, her body the right combination of strength and lithe grace to allow for fluid movements. She made up for her petite stature by being quick on her feet, often neatly dancing out of his blade’s path with inches to spare. 

When they were finished with the swords, he began to show her lightsaber technique with a couple of training sabers fixed at the lowest setting. If touched, the blade delivered a burn that was painful but not harmful. 

She rose to the challenge but, like him, she found the differences between the two weapons tricky to get used to. Still, she held up well, managing to hold off his attacks for over a minute before a light hit on the leg had her letting out a very unladylike phrase. 

“Tired?” he asked with a smirk. 

“Nice try,” she retorted. “Let’s go again, I think I'm getting the hang of it.”

He obliged her with a nod, and raised his saber. She attacked with a series of quick strokes that had him pouring all his effort into his defence, but then he found his feet again, rapidly beating her back. Another hit and curse word later, she was calling for a halt. 

“I get the picture,” she said, her hair untidy, her face shining with perspiration, lit up with a huge grin. “You’re better than I am and to challenge you results in pain. Noted. Let’s move on.”

He laughed. “You were never going to beat me. I have the Force on my side, remember.” 

“That’s cheating,” Sabé declared, hands on hips. 

“If it makes it easier for you to accept defeat that way, then yes, I was…cheating.”

“Or,” she amended thoughtfully, “at the very least you had an unfair advantage.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “All right, you have me there.”

“So we’re even then?” she suggested impishly, eyes wide and innocent. 

He retorted with a suspicious frown, not buying it. “Well, I wouldn’t quite put it–”

“Great!" Sabé interrupted, tone overly bright. "We’re even.”

“You’re infuriating,” he told her lightly. 

She shot him a grin. “I know.” 

When it became clear that sparring was over for the day, they packed up and headed back to the apartment. There was no sign of the spies that Sabé’s parents had sent after her, but Obi-Wan knew better than to assume that they were not around. He hoped that after they visited Naboo and spoke to the Simmonites in person, the two scouts would be dismissed. 

Settled in the apartment that was not quite home yet, they shared dinner and light conversation before retreating to the single sofa for the evening, where their talk turned to more serious matters. 

“Have you given any thought to when you want to go back to Naboo?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Not really. I think I prefer the idea of talking to my parents over talking to Daedrin, so I guess as soon as possible. Then I can avoid him for a few more days.” 

“You can’t avoid him forever.”

“No, I know that.” Her lips quirked in a smile. “But I can try.” 

He gave a brief chuckle. 

“I think in a day or two,” she went on in a more serious tone. “Or even tomorrow, if you want.” 

Obi-Wan nodded. “How did you get here?” he asked. 

“One of the royal starfighters. I’ll need to return it, so if you could lay your hands on a two-seater fighter for the journey back, that would be useful.” 

“I’ll see what I can do. Shall we say the day after tomorrow? I’ll need to inform the Council about our plans.”

She nodded in agreement “Of course.” 

They did not return to the topic of the investigation after the dispute in Padmé’s apartment. Instead they spent the evening reading or reminiscing about their time stranded on Tatooine. 

Obi-Wan knew he had projected an outward appearance of calm acceptance about the entire situation, and on some levels it was a true one. But in order to get there he had battled the same reservations and fears that Sabé herself had no doubt confronted. Although she had not mentioned her troubles, he could almost read her every thought as it danced across her face. In the space of a day he had seen distress, relief, gratitude, concern, apprehension, shock, passion and stubbornness, each one taking its turn to shape her striking features. He knew she had no idea that she was such an open book to him, and he intended to keep it that way. She would be embarrassed to find out how well he could read her. 

It had not always been the case. When they had first met, her face and character were hidden behind the royal mask of Queen of Naboo, a mask that, he was later to discover, was not hers. She had worn it well, had almost fooled them all. But he was a Jedi, not to mention the fact that he had had too much time on his hands and too much curiosity about her for his own good. It hadn’t taken him long to find the woman underneath the face paint, and to learn that she was as human as her subjects. Then when she and Padmé had begun switching places again, it became obvious to him which was the queen and which the handmaiden. 

Sabé, although practically flawless in her portrayal of Padmé, could never be anything other than herself for long. Once he had become aware that there were two queens, Obi-Wan had begun to notice the differences between them. They had both conducted themselves with regal dignity in the face of their homeworld’s trouble, yet while Padmé had committed herself fully to the etiquette, Sabé had not been able to disguise the fiery glint of her anger. It had been nothing but a certain sparkle in her dark eyes, but it had been enough for him to notice. It had been at that moment that he had become aware that his witty companion was the decoy and not the monarch. 

It was not until after the battle, when she had been his silent support after the death of Qui-Gon, that he had thought to ask her name. She had given it in exchange for a promise of letters, a request that he had granted with pleasure. Thinking back to that time, he had never imagined that their friendship would have led them to a marriage of convenience. Being a Jedi, he had, of course, never imagined that he would have married at all. Possession and attachment were the two dangers always lurking to prevent such an arrangement. They were demons that Ki-Adi-Mundi was constantly fighting to allow him to keep his family. Possession was the easier to contend with, since control of that kind was not healthy in any relationship. But attachment was a slippery slope, subtle in its tendency to slowly develop within a heart so that it escaped notice until the damage was done. 

He was still unsure how Mundi managed it. Once or twice he considered that he might not have managed it at all, and that he had somehow found a way to balance the two. Such thoughts were not permitted, of course, and attachment continued to be seen as a starting point for weakness and vulnerability. Obi-Wan didn’t agree with it, but he admitted that he had no basis for argument. He didn’t have any significant attachments, only his friendships with Anakin, Sabé and his fellow Jedi. So he had no cause to say whether or not it was possible to remain attached and dedicated at the same time. 

The Code was vague on the subject of friendships, especially within the Order. It encouraged unity and camaraderie between the Jedi Knights, but neatly glossed over the topic of attachment. Obi-Wan had long been of the opinion that the Code was too archaic, too open to misinterpretation to be followed so literally and with the unquestionable obedience that Padawans and Masters alike were expected to show. It had been written in a different age, and while he agreed that they should not lose sight of their ideals, he could see that if they didn’t move with the times it would be easy for them to get left behind. 

He was far too aware of the controversy to raise the subject himself. Fortunately, he had the foresight and patience to wait and find others of a like mind before he brought the topic before the Council. 

He gave a sigh and Sabé looked up from her data pad. Sabé. His wife. He still couldn’t get used to that idea. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, her brow furrowed in concern. “You’re just staring into space.” 

“I was thinking,” he corrected.

“Careful. Don’t do yourself an injury.”

He sent her a mock glare and she laughed, her face relaxed and bright with her mirth. Unbidden, the memory of her in his arms, her eyes dark with the intensity of their discovered passion, shot through his mind like a pod racer. He blinked in surprise and the image vanished. It was not the Jedi way to dwell on past events, and he was taken aback to find himself doing so. 

Sabé didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, continuing to watch him with a calm, level gaze. 

“I’m fine,” he told her.

“Sure?” she asked with unexpected perception. 

“Yes. Don’t worry.” 

She did not look convinced, but gave him a nod and an understanding smile. He smiled back, appreciative of her ability to know when not to push for answers. He couldn’t help but briefly wonder just how empty and cold his bed would feel without her. 

_If this is how I react after one night then it’s better for us both that we thought to keep it a one-off occurrence,_ he told himself. 

He wasn’t entirely sure that it had been a wise move in the first place. It certainly hadn’t been on his mind when Sabé had asked for his help, nor had it played a part in swaying his decision.

His immediate reaction to most situations was to help in any way he was able. Sabé’s heartfelt plea and obvious distress had spoken to his compassionate nature, not to mention what he knew of Daedrin. But her cry for help had demanded he give more of himself than usual, and it had needed careful thought before he had agreed. He knew that he had kept her waiting for an answer, but he hadn’t wanted to do her an injustice by replying before he was sure. 

After consideration, he had realised how little the new arrangement would affect his life. The only change would be that he would spend more time in Sabé’s company, and that was by no means unwelcome. In the eleven years of their correspondence, they had only been able to meet in person a handful of times. He knew her well, yet in some ways he didn’t know her at all. He had wondered if the marriage would serve to strengthen the ties of their friendship. The Force always gave him an indication of which people he needed in his life, and Sabé was one of them. With that in mind, and the knowledge that he would be able to keep her safe, he had agreed. As soon as the words had been spoken, he had felt a ripple of comforting assurance from the Force that had told him he had made the right decision. 

He did not expect to find himself so caught up in her. He had seen in her eyes that she did not expect it either. They had both been drawn into the tidal wave of sensation, feeling and instinct, so uncommon and thrilling in its novelty. It had gone against everything he had ever been taught, even the Code itself. _There is no passion, there is serenity_. But to him it had been both, it had felt right. And that confused him immeasurably. He had been taught to follow the Code and to listen to his instincts, but those two instructions had never opposed each other as they did where Sabé was concerned. He wondered what it meant, whether it meant anything at all, and if it would turn out to be a mistake or some kind of providence.

At least there wouldn’t be the same fear of additional complications that had occurred with Satine. Sabé had firmly assured him that her contraceptive implant was well-maintained and functioning. _That_ would have been difficult to explain to the Council. 

He glanced at the data pad in his hand, accepting that he wouldn’t be looking at it at any point that evening. He leaned forward and placed it on the low table that Sabé had propped her feet on, then stood. 

“I think I’ll retire,” he announced. 

Sabé quirked an eyebrow and nodded. “It is getting on for midnight,” she said in apparent agreement, lifting her feet off the table and standing, her motion precise and elegant. 

They stood in silence for a while, both uncomfortable in the midst of the first moment of awkwardness they had experienced. 

Sabé pointed a finger in the vague direction of her room. “I should…”

Obi-Wan hastily gestured her forward. “Of course. Good night.”

“Good night.” 

She faltered a little, seemingly unable to decide if she was supposed to hug him, kiss his cheek or do nothing. Eventually she settled on a smile, then practically ran to her door. Obi-Wan watched her departing back, raising a hand to his chin as he reflected on the unease of their parting, hoping it was not an omen of how things would be between them now. 

Putting it out of his mind, he prepared for bed and settled down to sleep, slipping into a light meditation to coax his body into rest. The bed did seem awfully large for one person alone. 

Opening his eyes to allow himself a glare into the darkness, he chided himself for his foolishness and once more attempted to quieten his thoughts.

Unbeknownst to him, on the other side of the wall, Sabé was doing the same. 

* * *

The following day, Sabé spent her time lying low in the apartment, thoroughly bored but aware of the foolhardiness of leaving. The Council meeting took Obi-Wan away from her for half the day, and when he returned he was bearing a message written on flimsi. 

“Handed to me by a young lady called Teckla,” he told her. 

Sabé nodded. “She’s a handmaiden of Padmé’s.” 

“Another Order member?” 

“No. But Moteé is. I hope she’s been warned of the danger she might be in.” Unfolding the note, she skimmed it quickly, translating Padmé’s vague message with ease. "Daedrin is looking for me," she reported. 

Obi-Wan seemed unsurprised. "We knew he would." 

"Yes." She felt utterly fed up at the news, however predictable it was. 

“The Council have given me use of a starfighter for the journey tomorrow," Obi-Wan told her, "so we can leave whenever you’re ready.” 

“Let’s not leave it too late,” Sabé said after some consideration. “I think… Well, even with the trouble they’ve caused, I wouldn’t want to worry my parents. They must have heard that I’ve gone missing by now.”

He nodded his understanding. 

Struck by a stab of bitterness, she added, “Gods know why I’m considering their feelings since they don’t seem to care for mine, but there you go.” 

Obi-Wan said nothing, but sent her the kind of smile that implied he was sympathetic to how she was feeling. 

The following morning, they departed as soon as they were both up and dressed. Sabé carried a single bag containing a gown and accessories. Her mother was an old-fashioned woman, who preferred to see her daughter in the dresses befitting her rank rather than a jumpsuit and boots. Sabé always chose outfits in Luma’s favourite styles and colours when she had something particularly unpleasant to tell her. 

They docked their ships in the palace hangar, then headed to Sabé’s suite so that she could change. When she was tidier, they took a slow walk to Jago and Luma’s apartment, a walk that seemed to get more painstaking the further they went. 

“Is it my imagination,” Ob-Wan said, breaking the companionable silence, “or are you moving slower?”

“It’s your imagination,” Sabé said firmly, pausing to tip a fictitious pebble out of her shoe. 

“I see. I never would have thought it possible.”

“What?”

“That the Lady Sabé, who has stood up to the droid armies of the Trade Federation, would show more fear at the prospect of seeing her own parents than she did in the face of battle.”

Not able to think of a witty retort, Sabé settled for a huff and folded her arms, sending the long, sweeping sleeves of her gown flapping. He was right, of course, and knew it, judging by the smirk he was failing to hide. Irked by his perception and his amusement at her behaviour, Sabé quickened her pace. She was acting like a child, she knew that. Unpleasant scenes with her parents tended to bring it out in her. 

In a time far too short for Sabé’s liking, they reached the apartment. The Simmonite protocol droid, D8-420, answered the door.

“Miss Simmonite, how lovely to see you back,” the droid said, its female voice programmed to have the familiar gushing tones heard so often from protocol droids. 

“Thank you,” Sabé replied. “I’m here to see my parents.” 

“Oh. I was not aware they were expecting you.”

“They’re not. Are they here?” 

“Of course. They’re in the lounge. I’ll take you through.” 

They followed the droid through the bright, white-painted corridors to the lounge, a large yet comfortable room, with windows overlooking the pristine garden. Jago and Luma were seated on one of the curved sofas, sharing a pot of tea and softly spoken conversation. 

“Master Jago, Mistress Luma, Miss Syrena is here to see you,” D8-420 announced. 

Both of them leapt to their feet at once, their faces etched with a mixture of concern and relief. Sabé stepped back a fraction to stand at Obi-Wan’s side, trying to put forward the notion that he was not a bodyguard. She knew well that her parents would almost consider him a servant if they thought him appointed to her by the Council. 

“Syrena!” Luma cried, hurrying over to clasp her daughter’s hand. 

Jago swiftly followed. “Are you all right?”

A little taken aback by their greeting, Sabé nodded, smiling at them both in what she hoped was a reassuring way. She wasn’t sure how else to react. “I’m fine,” she told them.

“Where have you been?” Luma asked sharply, always the first to jump directly to the point. Her anxiety apparently appeased, she was back on usual form. “You left here in such a rush, and then vanished almost as soon as you got to Coruscant.”

Sabé grimaced, unable to decide whether her mother was brazenly barefaced about her spies or if she had simply been careless with her speech. Her guilt at causing her parents to worry suddenly dispersed. 

“Well, you would know,” she said placidly, her words revealing the barest hint of her anger. “Send spies after me again, Mother, and then watch how fast I disappear.”

Her parents had the grace to look sheepish. 

“We worry about you,” Jago said, his tone unapologetic. 

“Worry? That wasn’t worry,” Sabé retorted hotly. “That was controlling. That was making sure I met Senator Daedrin as you planned.”

She felt the lightest of touches to the back of her arm. Instantly grounded, she fought to quieten her temper. 

“Why couldn’t you just take my word for it?” she asked in a softer tone. “I did as I said I would.” 

“The main thing is you’re safe,” Luma cut in, making a blatant attempt to smooth things over. Turning, she unceremoniously thrust the teacups at D8-420 and ordered refreshments.

“Please tell us what you’ve been doing to necessitate a Jedi protector,” Jago said, his stern brow wrinkled in a frown, his words shattering Sabé’s intentions of making Obi-Wan appear as an equal. “I take it my daughter is safe with you, Jedi…?”

“Master Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Obi-Wan offered with a respectful bow. “Sabé is highly capable, but yes, she is always safe with me.” 

“Could I have my hand back, do you think?” Sabé asked her mother. 

Luma glanced down and released the hand in question. “Oh. Sorry, dear.” And then, quick as a flash, she reached for it again. “What’s this?” She held up Sabé’s hand, where the plain silver wedding band shone. 

“Ah…” Sabé muttered with a sinking heart. That was not how she had intended to raise the topic. “That? That’s what I came to talk to you about. I’m…married.”

“Well, this is wonderful!” Luma beamed. 

Sabé looked at her in open confusion. “It is?”

“Of course! You’ve saved us all the trouble of planning a wedding, not to mention the expense.” Luma was not the sort of woman to lament missing her big moment as mother of the bride. 

Jago placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders, one of the rare, affectionate gestures that reminded Sabé that her parents’ union was not entirely a convenient one. 

“Why did you not bring your husband with you?” he asked, his expression warm. 

“I did,” Sabé said edgily. Behind her, she heard Obi-Wan let out an almost-silent, weary sigh. Like her, he could see that the conversation was hurtling towards a messier conclusion than they’d planned. 

Luma glanced around, as if expecting Senator Daedrin to burst out of a cupboard bearing a banner reading ‘surprise’. 

“Senator Daedrin is here?” 

“No,” Sabé answered, keeping her voice calm and level. “Senator Daedrin is on Coruscant. I hope. I have…married Obi-Wan.” 

There was crushing silence for a horrible, awkward moment, and then, unexpectedly, a snigger from Luma. 

“Don’t be absurd. Jedi aren’t allowed to marry.”

“We obtained a dispensation from the Council,” Sabé explained.

“They would never have granted it, not for something like this,” her mother laughed. 

“If this is an attempt to get out of marrying Senator Daedrin, you haven’t really thought it through,” Jago put in, fixing his daughter with a severe, hard look. 

Riled by their reactions, Sabé felt her palms grow hot as she clenched her fists. She was comforted by Obi-Wan’s steady presence at her side. They had both agreed beforehand that she should do most of the talking, but his stillness was almost as reassuring as his words. His expression was carefully guarded, but he seemed unsurprised at Jago and Luma’s response. 

Wordlessly, Sabé drew a folded piece of flimsi from her pocket. Luma snatched it and read it, Jago peering over her shoulder. 

“I’m not sorry,” Sabé murmured, as they both stared at her in shock. “I won’t be used in your plans. I know you thought Daedrin would be a suitable match for me, but I disagree.” 

Luma glanced again at the marriage certificate in her hand. “And how exactly is a Jedi a better match for you?” she asked coldly. “He has no money, not even any possessions to speak of, nothing to bring to the marriage.” 

Obi-Wan raised a single eyebrow at the barefaced statement, but kept his silence. 

“Ugh, you’ve never understood! I don’t care, Mother,” Sabé said heatedly. “It’s not about that. At all. I earn enough to keep myself. And besides, Obi-Wan brings protection, companionship and honour to the marriage, which is far more important to me than wealth.”

“So you’re not in love then?” Jago asked. “This isn’t some runaway marriage?”

Sabé shook her head. “No. We’re old friends. Obi-Wan fought with me in the Battle of Naboo eleven years ago.” 

A flicker of recognition and grudging respect lit Jago’s grey eyes. Luma, however, still looked stony. 

“How did you get the Jedi Council to grant you a dispensation?” she asked. “They don’t just hand them out on a whim.” 

Sabé glanced at Obi-Wan, unsure how much she was permitted to reveal. 

“I’m afraid we can’t say,” he spoke up. “But it was decided with Sabé’s safety in mind.” 

“That’s extremely convenient,” Luma pointed out. 

“Perhaps so,” Sabé agreed, “but it also happens to be true.” 

Silence hung again, as weighty and prominent as if there was another person present. Then D8-420 bustled in with a tray, breaking the tension. The droid began busying itself with sorting cups, but quickly exited when Luma gave a short, snapped order. Nobody moved to help themselves to tea. 

“So,” Jago said at length, “to recap, you’ve deliberately gone against our wishes and married yourself to this Jedi.” 

“I have.” 

Jago gave a deep sigh, looking, for a moment, every one of his fifty-nine years. “Well, my dear, I only hope that this plan does not backfire on you.” 

Sabé nodded mutely, unsure what to say to a comment she was not anticipating. “I don't expect it to,” she said eventually. 

“No one ever does.” 

“And what about Senator Daedrin?” Luma asked. 

Sabé glanced at her mother, a small smile playing about her lips as she made a rapid decision. “Oh. I leave it to you to explain the situation to him.” 

As one, her parents and Obi-Wan turned to stare at her. 

“I’m sorry, you’re doing what?” Luma exclaimed. “You can’t possibly…”

Sabé held up a hand, cutting her off. “You can talk to him, Mother, I have no wish to. You started this, you can finish it.”

Her mother pressed her lips together in a thin line of disapproval before saying, “He deserves to hear it from you.” 

“He deserves nothing of the sort,” Sabé scoffed. “He never proposed to me, therefore I have nothing to refuse. This whole state of affairs is your doing.” 

Her parents exchanged a glance, and Jago shrugged his shoulders. 

“Technically, she’s right,” he said, his tone heavily laced with reluctance. 

“You won’t avoid a confrontation this way,” Obi-Wan told her. 

“I know that. That’s not the point.” She shot him a warning look, communicating her desire not to be lectured to. 

“All right,” Jago spoke up, “we’ll talk to him. But you should too.” 

Sabé gave a humourless laugh. “I doubt I’ll have a choice in the matter. If you’ll excuse us now, Obi-Wan and I have things we need to do.” 

“Syrena,” Jago said gently, searching her face, “is this really what you want?”

Sabé met his gaze boldly. “No, Father. It’s not what I want, nor what Obi-Wan wants. But what choice did you leave me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I credit working in pharmacy for giving me good droid names.


	10. Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay. Life Stuff happened. Also, whilst editing this chapter I belatedly realised that I should probably have promoted Panaka. He surely wouldn't still be a captain at this point, right? Since I'm not going to go back and change the previous chapters, however, he's going to have to stay one.

**Chapter Ten – Confrontation.**

 

When business with Queen Neeyutnee and her parents had been concluded, Sabé knew that she could not put off departure any longer. After their argument in the wake of Padmé’s appointment as senator, Sabé had never imagined that she and her former queen would work together again. Now that it was happening, she was eager for the change, not to mention the convenient distance from her parents. Still, it was with some reluctance that she gathered her belongings into bags and prepared to leave Naboo. She was somewhat surprised at how neatly her old life packed away into a small collection of cases. Somehow she had assumed that she had made more of an impact on her suite of rooms at the palace ,but she had packed everything in under an hour, leaving the room exactly as it had been when she had moved in. 

She lingered a little longer, saying the necessary goodbyes to those she would miss and avoiding those she would not. Obi-Wan trailed silently in her wake, seemingly content to let his mind wander while she conducted her business, although she doubted that the Jedi Master _ever_ simply let his mind wander. It was more likely that he was partaking in some form of waking meditation. 

Eventually, however, she ran out of delaying tactics. Well aware that she should not have been delaying at all, (and that Captain Panaka would have more than a few colourful words to say if he knew of her behaviour), Sabé took a moment to collect her thoughts. She needed to stop thinking like a woman in potential danger and start thinking like a soldier once more. The inevitable confrontation with Daedrin was just another battle to be fought. She needed to move past the uneasy feeling his presence inspired and focus on the facts: namely that they were most likely to meet in a public forum, where he would be limited in his actions. She could handle that easily enough. And if luck really wasn’t on her side and she found herself alone with him, well… It would be of academic interest to find out if all her training and experience could match up to the skills of a deadly assassin.

She straightened her posture and lifted her chin, instantly feeling more confident than she had in days. She was not a helpless victim. She was Sabé, bodyguard to the elite, high-ranking official of the Order of Sanctuary, and she _refused_ to die for someone else’s gain. 

_I will not be cowed_ , she told herself firmly. _Not now, not ever._

Obi-Wan tilted his head in interested appraisal, and Sabé realised he had been watching her every move. He gave a nod in response to her renewed tenacity and smiled. 

“I’m ready now,” she told him. 

“I know,” he said. 

***

Obi-Wan was well-practiced in the art of observing a lot while looking nonchalantly innocent, an art that he had perfected over many years. It was something he had tried hard to pass on to Anakin, with little success. His former Padawan always lacked subtlety. 

As Sabé returned to Coruscant and her position in Padmé’s entourage, Obi-Wan was watchful, searching for anything amiss. He didn’t know enough of Daedrin to guess what his reaction might be. The senator was an enigma wrapped in many layers of deceit and corruption. Sabé grasped that they needed to tread more carefully than ever around him, something that Obi-Wan was sincerely grateful for. He never needed to explain things to her, she always thought things through just as thoroughly as he did. It was refreshing. 

There was a confrontation on the horizon. They both knew it. Now they had returned to Coruscant, it was only a matter of time before Daedrin’s path crossed with Sabé’s, either by design or in a professional capacity. If the senator really was targeting Order of Sanctuary members, Sabé had lost all chance of whatever protection he might have offered her if she had agreed to become his wife. Exactly how safe she would have been was still unclear, and Obi-Wan was grateful that she wouldn’t find out first-hand. 

The altercation occurred within a day of their return. Padmé was attending a session in the Senate, requiring Sabé to accompany her with Teckla while Moteé visited a sick friend. As they made their way through the corridors of the Senate building, several of the senators whispered among themselves, questioning why Padmé needed the protection of two handmaidens, a chief of security _and_ a Jedi Master. 

Obi-Wan walked behind the women with Captain Typho, keeping his senses on alert. Daedrin would be unavoidably present, and Obi-Wan knew that he would no doubt have heard the news from the Simmonites. Sabé’s shoulders were tense beneath her crimson hooded cloak, her Force signature sporadic with her anxiety. She knew it too. 

Daedrin’s entourage came face to face with Padmé’s as they rounded the bend of the Senate building’s gently curved corridors. Daedrin bowed first to Padmé, as was correct, but then immediately moved to meet Sabé head-on. Obi-Wan stepped up to her side, not wishing to fight her battles for her, but unable to stand quietly. 

“I wish you had told me plainly that your heart lay elsewhere,” Daedrin began, his tone polite but lacking in warmth. 

“My heart is still in my own keeping,” Sabé returned formally. “This had nothing to do with it. I did not wish to be a pawn of my parents and the law forbade me from refusing, so I took matters into my own hands. I'm sorry that you were caught up in their plans to further their ambition.” Her voice was calm, courteous, and gave no hint of either the worries she had harboured or that she suspected him to be a murderer. 

“Even still,” he pressed on, “you should have told me.” He took half a step closer to her, lowering his voice. “Or was it that you were using me to get back at your parents by making them explain the situation?”

Sabé stood her ground. Obi-Wan couldn’t see her face, but he imagined her expression was stern, judging by the beginnings of a smirk at the corners of Daedrin’s mouth. He felt a ripple of annoyance on Sabé's behalf and swiftly quashed it. 

“I felt that it was their duty to inform you, since they were the ones that got us both into this,” she shot back coolly.

There was a heavy pause. In his peripheral vision, Obi-Wan could see Padmé hovering, evidently wondering whether she should step in. 

“For your sake, I do hope you’re being honest with me,” Daedrin said smoothly. His eyes were glacial, holding back none of his anger. He was clearly not a man who was willing to accept being made to feel foolish. 

Captain Typho moved forward to stand at Obi-Wan’s side, further back-up behind Sabé’s cloaked figure, while Teckla stood ramrod-straight to her left. 

“For your sake,” Sabé returned, “I do hope that isn’t a threat.” 

Daedrin smiled, but it was as false as all his courtesy. “I like you, Sabé. You have guts. I’m disappointed that you decided to take this course. Still, I’m sure we’ll meet again. From time to time. Excuse me, Senator Amidala.” With that, he continued on his way, his aides shooting Sabé curious looks as they passed her. 

“You all right?” Typho asked quietly. 

Sabé nodded, letting out a breathy sigh. “I’m fine, Gregar. Thanks for the support. Padmé, I’m so sorry that had to happen while I was on duty.” 

Padmé shook her head, waving off the apology. “It was always going to happen this way. I’m glad it’s over with.”

“So am I.” 

She turned to meet Obi-Wan’s gaze, and he studied her face. She was telling the truth about being fine, but there was a shaky edge to her serene countenance. She nodded slightly at his unspoken question, and he knew that she was fit to continue her shift of duty. 

Padmé continued to walk the corridor. Sabé and Teckla fell into step behind her. Obi-Wan glanced at Typho, who was keeping pace beside him. 

“Thank you,” he said in a low tone. “I’m glad Sabé has defence other than me, although I know your first duty is to Senator Amidala.” 

Typho shot him a look. “Of course. Sabé’s my oldest friend, I would never let anything happen to her.”

They shared a smile of understanding before facing forward again. During the series of incidents that had started the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan had found Typho more help in protecting the senator than the distracted Anakin had been. They had built up the foundations of camaraderie and trust in the few days they had worked together. He was glad to have the younger man's backing once again. 

Obi-Wan waited in the alcove entrance to the Naboo pod while the Senate was in session, able to observe and hear what was going on without drawing attention. The Jedi Council had expressly ordered him not to sit in the pod with the senatorial party, as it would spark a negative reaction if the Jedi were thought to be supporting a particular system. 

Padmé was not as vocal as she usually was, apparently not overly interested in the issues raised. When the session was over, she sent Obi-Wan an apologetic glance. 

“This must be so boring for you, Master Kenobi.”

“Not at all", he assured her truthfully. "Sometimes it’s helpful to listen to the political side of things. It’s easy to forget the complexities of the situation out on the frontlines.”

Padmé nodded her understanding. “I suppose you see things in terms of battle strategy and attack plans, one system at a time."

“It can seem that way,” he agreed. "The bigger picture can get lost when you're busy trying to focus on smaller details." 

The party moved out from the main chamber, back onto the curved corridors surrounding it. They made their way back to Padmé’s apartment, where Sabé made herself busy with fixing lunch. Obi-Wan followed her into the kitchen to speak a few words in private. 

“I need to report to the Council about the run-in with Daedrin,” he began. “I’ll come back and pick you up from here later, if that suits you.” 

“No problem,” she replied, never taking her focus off her task. 

“How are you? You seemed a little shaken, despite being fine.” 

She gave him a quick glance and what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. “I _am_ fine. I was a bit shaken but I’m okay now. I just wasn't sure what to expect. He's...I don't know, he always strikes me as volatile. It will be easier to see him again now that this first time is out of the way, now that I know he intends to be civil.” 

“Yes,” he agreed. “We must be cautious though. He may target you sooner rather than later, since you’re here on Coruscant, within easy grasp.”

“I’ll be cautious,” Sabé promised. “We must keep an ear out for news of him planning trips to Naboo too. The majority of the Order members will still be there.” 

Obi-Wan leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, folding his arms. “Are there many of you on Coruscant that you know of?” 

“I only know of myself and Moteé," Sabé replied, cutting starfruit into segments, her blade quick and precise. "I can contact the Order and ask. I have high-level clearance, so they should tell me what I need to know." Lowering the knife, she shot him a thoughtful look. "Should I warn them?”

He considered the question. It seemed the right path to take, to make sure that the Order was on their guard. But since the Jedi investigation was top secret and to be kept quiet, he didn’t know what they would want Sabé to do. 

“I’ll check with the Council,” he told her. “They may prefer a need for secrecy.”

Sabé frowned at the chopping board. “I would prefer that my sisters be aware of any potential threats. These are lives at risk, after all.”

“Yes, I know," he told her, in complete agreement but aware that he was bound by what the Council decided. "I’ll raise the point with the Council. I’ll see you later.”

“You’re not staying for lunch?” she asked, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. 

“I’m not hungry."

"You should eat, you know," Sabé scolded lightly.

He gave a brief chuckle, but didn't comment on it. “I’ll be back later," he said, then swiftly departed. 

***

Sabé served Padmé her meal, and the senator ate it whilst looking over her notes from the morning’s Senate session. Padmé kept a meticulous archive of records that she always appropriately tagged and labelled. It was a laborious way to sort her notes after each session, but saved her a lot of time if she needed to refer back to things later. 

Sabé ate in the kitchen with Gregar, happy to leave Padmé with her political documents, knowing that the senator would barely notice what was on her plate, let alone whether or not she had company. 

See-Threepio was fussing around the kitchen when she got back there, and she shooed him out to find something useful to do. 

“Thank you,” Gregar said earnestly. “He was starting to drive me crazy.”

“You’ve only been in here five minutes,” Sabé countered, amused.

“It was a very long five minutes,” he insisted, pouring her a cup of caf.

Sabé nodded her thanks, hopping up onto a stool. She leaned over the cup and took a deep, appreciative sniff. 

“It’s good having you around again,” Gregar spoke up between bites. “You make me feel so much better about my own caf addiction.” 

“It’s good to be with you two again,” she admitted with a smile, ignoring his jibe. “I didn’t want to leave, but I think I’ve been working for the Royal House for too long. I missed you both. The palace is no fun at all without all three of us there.” 

“How we misused those secret passages!” He grinned, reaching for a slice of bread. 

“Well, how else was Padmé supposed to escape and actually have a life?” Sabé asked defensively. “She needed us, Gregar. I think she would have gone insane if we hadn’t reminded her that she was human and not some…I don’t know…Queen-shaped droid.” 

Gregar gave a laugh. “Thank the Gods my uncle never found out! He would never have authorised my promotion to the rank of captain!” 

“You know how fond I am of your uncle, but he’s too severe,” Sabé said between mouthfuls of fruit. “There’s more to life than duty.”

Gregar snorted. “That, coming from you, is so rare, I wish I’d recorded it.”

“Shut up! I have a life beyond my duty.”

“Yeah? Like what?” 

Sabé pulled a face at him. “I…write things. Letters to people…okay, _a_ person. I…occasionally run away to get married to said person. And…I…well, um…” She slumped, letting out a grunt. “Okay, you’re right. I have no life at all. Satisfied?” 

“Yes. I love being right.” 

Sabé held up her fork. “Be nice to me, or I’ll poke out your other eye.” 

Gregar laughed and took a sip of caf. “You’re lucky I’m not sensitive about that.”

“If you were, I wouldn’t have said it,” Sabé told him with a smile. 

“I know.”

There was a companionable silence as they finished up their food. Sabé glanced at her chrono, making sure that she was not taking too long. She knew Padmé would be a while sorting her notes, but she had things to do in the meantime, and Teckla needed her break. 

“I’m glad things worked out with Obi-Wan,” Gregar said, cutting through her reflections. 

“Me too,” she put in. “Definitely one of the weirder things I’ve ever asked a friend to do.” 

“I wouldn’t plan on making it a habit,” he advised seriously, the glint of humour in his eye giving him away. 

She fixed him with a jaded look. “Thank you for that.”

“Any time.” He saluted her with his caf cup. 

Sabé shook her head, saying fondly, "Idiot." 

"Takes one to know one," Gregar shot back without missing a beat. 

She sighed loudly, curling her hands around her drink. "So," she began, approaching a more serious topic. "Is Padmé always this work-obsessed and distant? Or have I just been away too long?" 

A shadow crossed Gregar's face and he leaned back in his seat. "It's kind of hard for me to tell, she's always a little guarded around me. But...she always works hard. She's happy you're back, but...I don't know, I think whatever you two argued about when she took the position of senator might have something to do with it."

Sabé grimaced. "I was afraid it might be that. Maybe I shouldn't have stayed away, but...we'd never argued like that before. It left its mark. She's friendly with me now, but it's not exactly like it used to be." 

"She never told me what it was about," he said with a shrug. "I think I can guess though. You stuck up for me, didn't you?"

"Ah..." Sabé muttered, embarrassed. "I did. I know I shouldn't have gotten involved really, but I couldn't help saying something. I kind of wish I hadn't, I don't think it helped in the slightest, and it just caused a rift between Padmé and me." 

"That's why you chose to stay behind and serve Queen Jamillia," Gregar surmised. 

She nodded, smiling without humour. "Yes. Pure avoidance. Not my proudest moment." 

Sabé thought back to that heated discussion, which had taken place only moments after Padmé had agreed to become Naboo’s senatorial representative. 

_“Padmé, I thought you had decided to retire from public service. You wanted to! You said you were looking forward to being a regular citizen again. What changed?”_

_“Nothing. Part of me still wants that. But I couldn’t refuse a request like this, not from the Queen. She thinks Naboo still needs me. How could I turn that down?”_

_“She’s been Queen for three days, how can she know what Naboo needs yet? You deserve to think of yourself for once.”_

_“Captain Typho will be my chief of security. I’ll be assigned three handmaidens. There’s a place for you still, if you want it.”_

_“Captain Typho? What happened to Gregar?”_

_“It…wouldn’t be professional to think of him that way.”_

_“But your plans to live quietly in the lake country, that was going to be an opportunity for you two. I thought that was what you wanted too. Especially after last night.”_

_“That should never have happened. It…was a mistake, Sabé. I shouldn’t have…We shouldn’t have…”_

_“You know he loves you. You’re too kind-hearted to lead him on. What happened would never have occurred if you didn’t feel something too.”_

_“It was…it could have been the beginning of something, but not anymore. Our relationship must be strictly professional. He’s always felt that the difference between our social classes was too great.”_

_“That was while you were Queen. He waited until you’d stepped down. He waited for you, Padmé!”_

_“He won’t accept it now that I’m a senator. I know he’ll never overstep his boundaries. And frankly–”_

_“You’ll break his heart if you do this.”_

_“…Frankly I’m relieved that whatever it was is over before…before I…loved him.”_

_“Padmé, you already love him. You’re just too busy burying your head in politics to do anything about it. Thank you for your very kind offer, but I would prefer to remain in service to the Queen. Goodbye.”_

She had stormed off after that, and hadn’t spoken a word to Padmé before the new senator had departed for her apartment on Coruscant. Of course, they’d made up to an extent once Sabé had cooled down, but the subject was never raised again. 

“I didn’t agree with her decision to become senator,” Sabé confessed. “On grounds of it not being fair to you. Or her.” 

“That’s sweet of you, but I think I always knew that her loyalty to Naboo would outweigh anything she might have once felt for me." He shifted forward, reaching for his caf cup, taking sips between sentences. "It’s what makes her so good at her job. Her people love her and need her. Nobody else speaks for them the way she does. I just...can’t imagine taking that away from the people for selfish reasons of my own. Maybe I'd want to, deep down, but I'm not sure I could live with the guilt." 

Sabé reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “You must be as selfless as a Jedi, Gregar.” 

He gave a short laugh. “I don’t know about that. I heard they can control their emotions. I’ve just learned to hide mine. I forgave her for becoming senator, but when she married Skywalker…I considered leaving her service.”

Sabé looked at him, surprised. “I didn’t know that. Nobody would have blamed you.” 

“ _I_ would have, eventually," he said with certainty. "I told you before, I could never leave her. I can only sleep at night knowing that she’s under my protection. She’s the safest woman in the galaxy because of the way I feel about her.”

Lowering her voice, Sabé confided, “For the record, I disagree with her decision to marry Anakin. It was a stupid, reckless thing to do, and they should have both known better.”

“I guess falling in love makes you impulsive,” Gregar said acrimoniously, shrugging. “But I can’t really blame her. I know it’s my fault.” 

“What? How can you think that?”

“I chose duty over her. I chose to follow the rules of social position and etiquette when I could have ignored them all for her love." He glanced down at the table top, his expression contorting as he recollected the source of his bitterness. "And then Skywalker sweeps in, younger, taller, more handsome than me, and spouts this awkward speech about how beautiful she is. He paid her compliments, he risked everything to be with her. How could she not fall for him?” 

Sabé squeezed his hand, letting out a quiet sigh. “I can’t pretend to know what goes on in Padmé’s head, but I do know that whatever she felt for you was genuine. And...I've never been convinced that it's entirely gone, despite what she may feel for Anakin."

“She’s married. It’s done.”

"It's...well, yes, I guess, but..."

“I appreciate that you’re trying to help, Sabé, but please, I don’t want to talk about it.” He shot her a quick, insincere smile, the kind that said that he didn't feel like smiling, but neither did he want to offend her.

Sabé nodded, withdrawing her hand. “Of course. Whatever you want.” 

“I need to go and speak to my team. I’ll see you later.” He rose and left the kitchen before she could reply. 

Sabé exhaled noisily and slumped forward, letting her forehead rest on the cool table top. Her two friends had been a constant worry for her ever since Padmé had married Anakin. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the young Jedi, but she firmly believed that he shouldn’t have pressured Padmé into a secret marriage. And judging by her melancholy behaviour, Padmé was beginning to see it as a mistake too. 

She wondered why nothing was ever simple. If it had been, Padmé would have stayed on Naboo and been with Gregar, and she herself would not have been forced to enter into a marriage of convenience to avoid a potentially murderous senator. Suddenly her life seemed too dramatic and complex to be real, the events of the past few days weighing heavily on her shoulders.

_I'm living in a holo drama_ , she realised with a groan.

She heard footsteps in the corridor, but didn’t bother to raise her head. The steps halted in the doorway as their owner took in the scene, then continued on their way to the cooler unit. 

“It went well then,” came Moteé’s voice.

“What went well?” said Sabé, her breath fogging up the table top. 

“Your meeting with Senator Daedrin.”

“Perfectly. He resents me and possibly wants to bang my parents’ heads together," Sabé reported cheerfully. "How’s your friend?”

“Oh...she’ll be fine. She seems to be recuperating.”

“That’s good.” 

There was a pause. Then Moteé cleared her throat. “Shall I fetch Senator Amidala’s leftovers? Or were you planning to do it with the power of your mind?”

Sabé sat up straight, adjusting to the slight dizziness she had brought on herself. Moteé’s expression was a bizarre mixture of stern and amused. She took a sip from the glass of water in her hand, awaiting the answer. 

“I’ll go.” Sabé slipped off her stool and headed for the door. A sudden thought occurring to her, she turned. “What do you mean, leftovers?”

“She always has leftovers. I haven’t seen her eat a full meal in weeks.” 

"Right," Sabé nodded, frowning. 

They exchanged a worried look, which Moteé tried to gloss over with a faint smile. "I think she's just stressed. I hope so, anyway." 

"Me too," Sabé murmured distractedly, all sorts of scenarios racing through her head to explain her friend's loss of appetite. Turning her attention back to her fellow handmaiden, she added, "I'll go and see. Leave the plates, I'll sort them." 

With that, she spun and walked the short distance up to Padmé’s office. True to Moteé’s word, there was a portion of food still on her plate. 

“Was lunch to your liking, M’lady?” she could not resist asking, picking it up and examining how much she'd eaten. 

“It was fine, thank you, Sabé,” Padmé replied, not taking her eyes off her data pad. 

Sabé watched her for a few moments, then quietly asked, “Padmé, is everything all right?” 

“Of course," the senator answered, scribbling some illegible notes on a piece of flimsi. "Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You tell me.”

Padmé finally looked up, and her brow creased in a frown. “Why do you have a red mark on your forehead?”

Sabé pulled her hood lower. “No reason.”

Setting down her pen, Padmé folded her arms on her desk. “I spoke to the Queen, by the way. There’ll be an opportunity for me to present my arguments for revoking the marriage law, but it won’t be for a few months.”

“A few months?” Sabé repeated, surprised. She'd known the courts moved slowly, but... 

“The council has other issues to deal with before ours. We just have to be patient, Sabé.” 

Sabé picked up her empty cup, nodding reluctantly. “I can do that. When I have to. Are you sure you don’t want anything else to eat?” 

“I’m fine, really," Padmé insisted, traces of annoyance creeping into her voice for the first time. "I need to get back to work,” she said finally, picking up the pen once more. 

Taking the thinly-veiled hint, Sabé bowed and left her alone. 

***

When Obi-Wan returned to the apartment, Sabé and Gregar were sitting at a small table in the lounge, bouncing security ideas back and forth. Sabé knew from one glance at his expression that something was wrong. She immediately leapt up from her seat and approached him, not liking the grim set of his mouth. 

“What is it?” 

He glanced at her, his eyes full of compassion. “Our investigator tracked down an Order member who was staying at 500 Republica. She was found dead outside her employer's apartment this afternoon." 

Sabé clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms in an attempt to calm her burst of anger. “Who was she?”

“Her employer said she was called Petré."

Sabé closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. “I knew her. I trained with her. She was serving Lord Demara, wasn’t she?” 

“Yes. He’s unnerved that someone could have attacked his security team. He’s gone into hiding for the time being, although considering what we know, there really isn’t much point to that.” 

“I have to warn the Order, Obi-Wan, they need to know what’s happening here.” She fixed him with her most insistent look, unprepared to back down on the issue. Investigation-compromising it may be, but lives were at stake. 

Fortunately, he nodded. “The Council agrees. They said that considering the nature of the Order, they can be trusted to be on the alert without raising suspicion.”

Sabé felt a small weight leave the burden on her shoulders. She didn't want to have to argue with Obi-Wan, not any more than she already had. She knew he was on her side. 

“That's good," she said earnestly. "I'm relieved, to be honest. I'm not sure what I would have done if they'd refused. Made a nuisance of myself, I guess. Why was Demara here, anyway? From what I hear, he rarely leaves his mansion on the outskirts of Theed.” 

“From what we can gather, he was simply here visiting friends," Obi-Wan explained, dismissively. "There’s something else, though. Daedrin has an alibi.”

Sabé frowned, battling the stirrings of confusion and resentment “What?”

“Petré’s time of death is estimated to be between 13 and 1400 hours. Daedrin was in his office at the Senate at that time. Which means that either we were mistaken, or-”

“He has an accomplice," Sabé spat. "Do we have any leads on who?” 

Obi-Wan shook his head, looking weary. “No," he answered succinctly, sounding thoroughly irritated at the fact. "Whoever committed the murder looped the security feed first." 

Sabé reached out and placed a hand on one of his folded arms. “This has to stop. I know you don’t want me involved in the investigation, but if my insider knowledge can help in any way your investigator has to let me know. I can’t sit back and hear more and more of these reports.”

“I know," he agreed, running a hand through his hair. The gesture betrayed his fatigue and made him seem very human. Jedi were not all-powerful, after all. "I will tell you if there’s a way you can help, Sabé. I give you my word.” 

They held each other’s gaze for a long, drawn out moment. 

“Trust me,” Obi-Wan added. 

“You know I do.” 

Gregar cleared his throat, and they both turned sharply to look at him. He gave a small, apologetic smile. 

“Hi. Is there any news on your marriage yet? The HoloNet is usually pretty quick to pick up this sort of thing." 

“There have been one or two reports," Obi-Wan told him. "The Council is due to release its statement tomorrow morning. I’m to be suspended for three months for acting without their permission, but I’m not expelled because I technically haven’t breached the Code.”

“Three months?” Sabé repeated with wide eyes. “I was hoping it would all blow over soon. I hate all this negativity, especially since it’s my fault.” 

“I’ve been through far worse,” Obi-Wan reassured, managing to inject humour into his tone. “It’s almost a holiday.”

“You worry too much, Sabé,” Gregar put in. 

“Only because I care,” she said defensively, walking away and resting her nail-stabbed hands on the back of the chair she had been sitting in. 

“And it’s to your credit,” Obi-Wan said sincerely, “but you need to trust in the people around you. We will get to the bottom of these murders, and those responsible will be brought to justice. Rushing into things and needlessly worrying won't help anyone." 

“Patience. Is that what you’re stressing here?”

“In a word, yes.” 

“I am being patient," she stated, unsure if it was really true. "But it’s difficult to maintain when my colleagues are being slaughtered and I have no idea why.” 

Obi-Wan looked as if he shared her frustrations. “I know,” he muttered. “I know.” 

And she knew that as with everything else he’d said that evening, it was the absolute truth.


	11. Melancholy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Time for some girl talk between Sabé and Padmé.

**Chapter Eleven – Melancholy.**

 

_Two days ago._

Coruscant's underworld had responded quickly when Daedein put out word that he was seeking an accomplice. He already knew what specifics he was looking for, and so it did not take him long to narrow down the candidates. He wasn't asking for much, only the most efficient and skilled human female assassin he could find. He knew at once when the right one landed in his lap, figuratively speaking. She was everything he'd been searching for and more, almost too perfect for what he had in mind. So it came as no surprise that Chancellor Palpatine had pointed her in his direction.

Within minutes of their meeting, she sauntered into the apartment he'd rented as a base of operations, surveying the decor with a faint air of distaste. He couldn't blame her, the place was in one of Coruscant's less reputable districts. She sank down onto one of the cleaner chairs and scrutinised him, one eyebrow arched. 

"My contact said you needed help," she said. 

There was only one other person besides himself who knew the location of the apartment. "The Chancellor," Daedein stated flatly. 

She didn't reply, but her silence was answer enough. 

"I do need help," he admitted conversationally. "You'll be well paid, of course."

"I know. Otherwise I wouldn't be here." 

Daedein had one or two comments he'd like to have made, but he kept his silence. He needed to know where the land lay first. One of his priorities when meeting new acquaintances was to read them as well as he could, discover what could get to them, whether they could be manipulated and how. His new accomplice was as blank-faced as a droid, purposely cold and aloof, but her manner was spiky. Spikiness, he knew, often hid bitterness, and bitterness could be exploited. 

"Would you like a drink?" he asked, determined to be polite even if she wasn't. 

"No." 

"Do you mind if I do?"

"No."

He turned his back on her, rolling his eyes, and dug a bottle out of the supplies he'd brought with him. He set it on the table, rifling for a glass. In the bottle's skewed reflection, he could see her appraising him with a blank expression. 

"So," he began, spinning back around, drink in hand, "how much do you know about Naboo's Order of Sanctuary?" 

For the first time, she smiled, a lazy, conceited smile. "I know more than you do," she said with confidence. "I used to be in it." 

***

_Present day._

“This is Sabé calling Temple, I repeat, Sabé calling Temple, please respond.” She sat waiting for a reply, the secure channel open on the com unit in front of her. 

When an Order member left the centre of operations, she was more or less on her own. She could always return, but she belonged to her place of employment rather than to the Order. However, the elders always ensured that their warriors could reach them, and the Temple was a safe haven for those who needed it. 

“Temple?” Obi-Wan asked softly. He was sitting not far away, listening but trying not to be intrusive. 

"Yes," Sabé replied, frowning at the silence she was getting through the com. "The Order was very strongly influenced by the Jedi back in the day. To the point where it's actually a little embarrassing and I wonder if we should be fined for plagiarism." 

He let out a brief laugh and she smiled in response. 

There was a sudden burst of static, followed by a woman’s voice. “This is Atté. We’re receiving you, Sabé. What’s the matter?”

“Is this channel secure on your end?” Sabé asked quickly. 

Atté answered in straightforward reassurance. “Yes. Go ahead.”

“You need to be on your guard," Sabé warned her. "I’m on Coruscant, and it seems that someone here has been attacking Order members. Naharé and Petré are both down, and I suspect that we are being targeted. I don't know why. I expect the murderer to travel to Naboo at some point to look for the Temple.”

There was a brief pause as Atté processed the information. “Copy that, Sabé," she said brusquely, her manner professional, her tone hiding her concern. "We will act accordingly.”

“An investigation is underway as we speak, so hopefully the attacker will be caught before we lose any more of us.” 

“Are you part of the investigation?” Atté asked. 

Sabé tried to keep her irritation out of her voice as she replied. “No, I’m not.”

Atté retorted sharply, “Who is conducting it?”

Sabé glanced at Obi-Wan, one eyebrow raised in question. He nodded at once, apparently having anticipated it.

“The Jedi,” she told Atté. “But they’re doing it strictly off the record for now. Nobody must know.” 

“I understand. We’ll keep it to ourselves, and raise security in the meantime.”

“How many Order members are here on Coruscant at the moment?” Sabé asked. “I only know of myself and Moteé.”

“We’ll send word to those off-planet," Atté assured her. "Thank you for this intelligence.”

“You’re welcome.” 

“Keep an eye on the investigation if you’re able,” Atté instructed. “Stay alert and focus on your duty.” 

“Copy that.” 

“Temple out.” The communication faded with a quiet fizzle. 

Sabé sat back in her chair, her mind eased a little. With the Temple on alert and those on duty warned, perhaps there was a chance that the murderer would be hindered. 

“I’ve done all I can,” she said out loud, scrubbing her face with her hands. “I guess now I just have to wait.” 

“As do we all,” Obi-Wan reminded her. “I wouldn’t have thought that Daedein, or whoever it is, would be stupid enough to attempt another hit anytime soon.”

Sabé swivelled round to look at him, resting her folded arms along the top of the chair. “No, he did strike me as being more intelligent than that. He and his accomplice have killed two in quick succession, he must know that we’d be suspicious by now.” 

“I would have thought so.” 

“Mm.” 

He frowned at her. “Is there something else on your mind?”

She blinked, then shook her head. “No. Nothing that would concern you anyway. Don’t worry.” 

He nodded, but looked far from convinced. In truth, Sabé was worried about Padmé, and wondered when she would get the time to have a proper talk with her friend. It was plain to her that the senator was not happy. 

She glanced up at him. He was watching her, an unreadable expression on his face. She shot him a questioning look.

“You look tired,” he said by way of an explanation. 

“I am tired. I was thinking of heading to bed, actually.” She stood, covering a yawn with her hand. 

“Sleep well,” he said warmly.

She smiled. “You too.” 

***

Padmé was not surprised when Sabé appeared at her apartment a few days later, despite the fact that it was her day off. She knew that her friend had noticed her bleak mood. She had tried to hide it, but always found it difficult to fool Sabé, who had spent a large portion of her youth observing and imitating her. 

“Where’s Obi-Wan?” Padmé asked, already used to seeing her handmaiden with the Jedi Master in tow. 

“He’s checking in with the investigator at the Jedi Temple,” Sabé explained. “I decided I would be safe enough paying a social call.”

“But you only saw me yesterday!” Padmé pointed out with a laugh. 

“Serving you tea and following you around the Senate building is not ‘seeing you’," Sabé insisted, her expression a resolute frown. "We need to talk. You know, like we used to.” 

Padmé felt her barriers automatically rise, and she quashed the feeling. Talking over her problems with her friends had always helped in the past. Although the complexity and gravity of the problems she had now made her reluctant to share them, she knew Sabé meant well. Maybe, deep down, she had been hoping that _someone_ would ask. 

“Okay,” she said finally, biting back the refusal that part of her wanted to give. “I guess I have been bottling things up for a while. And since I know you won’t drop this any time soon…”

“All I know is that you’re not happy,” Sabé said, her tone gentle but firm. “And I don’t like to see it.” 

Padmé resisted the urge to sigh. “Is it really that obvious?”

“Frankly, yes. It doesn’t seem like normal stress is the cause.” 

Not for the first time, Padmé considered regretting that her friend was so intuitive. It was a momentary consideration that she never gave any serious thought to. Sabé’s perceptiveness was what made her so good at her job, and made her so loyal a best friend. 

“I’m just worried,” she said, “that’s all. There’s a lot on my mind right now, what with the war and knowing that Anakin is out on the frontlines.” 

“I don’t doubt that you’re concerned for Anakin,” Sabé began, clasping her hands together in a way that betrayed her apprehension about the subject she was raising, “but when he’s not here it’s like he’s completely out of your life. You just carry on like normal, like life never changed for Senator Amidala.”

Padmé shot her a frown. “Well of course I carry on. What else am I supposed to do? Just sit around moping until he gets back?” 

“No, that’s not what I meant.” 

“Then what?”

Padmé watched as Sabé scrambled for the right words, taking a slow saunter out onto the open veranda that gave the apartment’s marble-floored lounge its impressive, stage-like appearance. Padmé joined her, content to watch the criss-crossing lanes of traffic that streaked lazily across the sky until her friend was ready to speak again. 

“You and I were always honest with each other,” Sabé said, changing her tactic. “When we were growing up we always shared our dark secrets.”

“Don’t all friends do that?” Padmé pondered aloud. 

“Perhaps," the handmaiden said with mild pensiveness. "My point is, I feel we’ve lost our way. We’ve been drifting apart. I know that it’s partly my fault...with the argument...but it’s not all me. Maybe that started it, but it’s got steadily worse since then. I worry about you when I can see something’s wrong and you won’t share what it is.” 

It briefly crossed Padmé’s mind to let her temper flare up, to accuse Sabé of nosiness and tell her to drop it. But truthfully, she felt too tired for that. She felt confused by the doubts being raised by her own conscience, and longed to get someone else’s input. 

Gathering her voluminous skirts around her, she walked down the steps at the edge of the veranda, sitting down at the top. Sabé joined her, tucking the fabric of her more modest gown around her legs. In the lounge behind them, Teckla was busy cleaning, humming softly under her breath as she worked. Despite the energy shield that separated them from it, Padmé knew that the noise of the planet-wide city would swallow her words before they could reach the room, so she did not fear being overheard. 

“I know your opinion regarding my marriage,” she began, trying to edge her way into explaining the tangle of thoughts.

Sabé nodded, apparently not keen to start on a negative point by repeating her thoughts on that subject. 

“I was…arrogant," she admitted awkwardly. "I didn’t listen to you or Obi-Wan when you told me to end things with Anakin.”

Sabé’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Obi-Wan told you to…”

“He came to see me after Geonosis, to tell me to break it off. I promised him I would. I meant it too, at the time. I even requested that Anakin escort me home, so I would have an opportunity to break it to him gently. But it was so difficult, Sabé." The words came out in a rush, and she clasped her hands tightly. "He wouldn’t even let me explain, he just kept saying how much he loved me and that he...needed me in his life. He...accused me of leading him on, because I had been the one to start things on Geonosis.”

With an air of caution, Sabé ventured, “What happened on Geonosis?”

Padmé felt a flush of embarrassment as she recalled how she'd behaved. “I...I said some things I shouldn’t have, but I wasn’t thinking straight. I thought we were about to die. And in that moment I felt that...I did love him." She took a deep breath, gaze fixed on the traffic lines, although she did not really see them. "Until that moment, I hadn't said it. I hadn't really felt it. For me, it hadn't been long enough, but he seemed so _sure_. And there was something. He had swept into my life, swept me off my feet. I know that’s a cliché, but that’s how it was. He was completely open with his feelings, and I wasn’t used to that. His honesty and the way he kept looking at me romanced me. It was just…so intense.”

Sabé leaned her elbows on her knees, her mouth set in a thin line of disapproval. 

“I know,” Padmé said before she could speak, “I should have known better. Don’t punish me, Sabé, I _know_. He asked me to marry him. I refused. I tried to say that duty should come first, but he wouldn’t listen. I told him that we didn’t need to get married, that I would be happy just being with him, but he wouldn’t have that either. He insisted.”

Frowning as she tried to comprehend, Sabé asked, “Why?”

Padmé had wondered that herself more than once. It still puzzled her. “I don’t know. Reassurance, maybe. He never likes to think of me being with anyone else. Even when he specifically asked me about my past relationships, he hated it when I answered.”

“You told him about Ian Lago?” Sabé asked incredulously. 

“No. I knew he’d hate that, since Ian’s father was involved in politics. I didn’t mention Clovis for the same reason. Thank the Gods I didn’t, seeing how they reacted to each other during that mission I went on to Cato Neimodia.”

Sabé’s eyes widened. “You didn’t tell him about Gregar. Did you?”

“Not directly," Padmé disclosed. "I just…couldn’t. They’d met at that point, and I just had this…feeling…that it was a bad idea.”

“So what did you do?”

“I made someone up. I said I met a boy when I was twelve. I called him Palo, but I found myself giving him Gregar’s description.”

Padmé fell silent as she remembered her words. _“He was a few years older than I. Very cute...dark curly hair...dreamy eyes.”_

Gregar as he had been when she’d first met him. Of course, life as a soldier had swiftly removed any hint of dreaminess from his eyes, especially after he lost one of them. But she still recalled the more innocent, eighteen-year-old Gregar, who had met her at one of the security training grounds and had barely taken his eyes off her. She had been disguised as a handmaiden, training with the rest of them to ensure that, newly-elected Queen or not, she was as capable as the others. 

“And Anakin didn’t like hearing it?” Sabé asked, breaking through her reminisces. 

Padmé jumped a little at her friend's words, but quickly found her narrative stride again. “No, not at all. He got jealous almost at once. It...made me a little uneasy. And I had that at the back of my mind the whole time he was trying to convince me to marry him. That and the fact that the Jedi Code was against the whole thing.” 

Sabé's frown of confusion spoke volumes. “But you said yes.”

“I...yes, eventually. And...truthfully, it was against my better judgement." She almost felt like a traitor for saying so, but she couldn't pretend it was otherwise anymore. "He persuaded me. Our relationship seemed like such a wonderful, storybook romance, it was so easy to get lost in it. I agreed to it. I never thought it would be a good idea, but I didn’t see what the harm was.”

“Can I ask you a question you won’t like?” Sabé said bluntly, fixing her with a grim look.

Padmé eyed her warily. “I guess so.” 

“I don't want to pick sides, but...I have to know...did you think about Gregar at all while you were doing this?” 

Padmé opened her mouth to speak, but found herself mute. The words stuck in her throat, as if they knew that saying them aloud would make it all seem so much worse than it had at the time. 

"Padmé?"

“I…yes, of course," she choked out. "But he had made his position very clear, he wanted nothing to do with me while I was senator.” Her voice dropped suddenly as she mused out loud, and she was vaguely aware of Sabé leaning over to catch her quiet words. “I was…proud. In a way, resentful, even though I knew he was only doing what he felt was right. The irony is, I would have thought less of him if he hadn’t stuck to his principles. How twisted does that make me?”

“Not at all. It makes you human.” 

Padmé straightened up, hugging her knees. “Anyway, I agreed to marry Anakin. I vowed to pledge myself to him, and put aside any feeling I might have had for Gregar. I told myself that I had found a man who wasn’t afraid to be with me, no matter what.” 

Sabé frowned. “That’s unfair, Padmé.”

“I know,” she shot back quickly, her tone sharp. “I wasn’t in the mood to be fair. It had been two years since that night, the one we don’t talk about. He had never been anything but courteous and professional with me since then, and I convinced myself that he couldn’t love me as much as he claimed. But…” she trailed off, swallowing a small lump in her throat, “…when I had to tell him about the marriage…he said nothing, he bore it without flinching, but the look he gave me…” In a murmur she added, “It haunts me sometimes. So much concealed pain. And all because of me. I knew then that I had misjudged him. In the worst possible way.”

Sabé's expression had become openly sad and sympathetic during her speech. Padmé found it difficult to bear. 

“And Anakin still doesn’t know?” her friend said gently. 

Padmé shook her head, the beads on her headdress tinkling softly. “No. It’s best that he never does. I didn’t want to regret my decision to marry him, but...it became clear very quickly that it was a mistake....in many ways."

"What do you mean?"

"We should have put duty first. And I was naive...or stupid, not sure which...to think that..." She halted, frustrated at her lack of clarity. "It was never going to work, opening a new chapter with Anakin without first closing one with Gregar. How can I help but wonder...? Things might have been very different."

"Yes," Sabé agreed in a low voice. 

"And then Anakin," Padmé went on. "I love him, I do, but...there’s…a darkness in him sometimes, it scares me.”

Sabé stared at her, wide-eyed, her posture suddenly tense. “Darkness? What do you mean?”

Padmé shifted uncomfortably, clasping her hands in her lap. “He seems prone to feelings that the Jedi are meant to renounce. Aside from his attachment to me…anger, jealousy, quick temper…possessiveness. I may not be an expert on the rules of the Jedi, but I do know that much.”

“Possessiveness isn’t good, Padmé,” Sabé said gravely. “Even in a normal relationship.” 

“I know. I should have picked up the hint in the way he reacted to the Palo story. He can’t stand the thought of me with anyone else, even past relationships. When it became apparent, it was already too late to back out.” She sighed, collecting her thoughts. “It was during the wedding night. He was adamant about checking that he hadn’t hurt me, even though I told him I was fine. When he realised that I hadn’t bled, he knew he hadn’t been the first. His reaction completely threw me off guard. It was so unnecessary.”

There was an awkward pause. Padmé glanced at her companion, almost embarrassed to find out how she was reacting to the story. Sabé’s face was severe, the blunt angles of her jaw more prominent than usual as she held back her anger. It was a look Padmé had seen many times before and could recognise instantly. 

“Was he violent?” Sabé asked, her words sounding thick behind her clenched teeth. 

“No, not really. But he was angry, and I couldn’t work out why. Then it hit me that it was jealousy. It seemed insane that he would be jealous over things that had happened before I’d even met him again. I reminded him that I’d had a life in the ten years that had passed since I’d seen him last. Eventually he calmed down and even apologised, but I could see that it still bothered him. I didn’t rest easy that night.”

Sabé visibly relaxed, but her tenseness betrayed her lingering unease. “I’m fairly sure I know the answer to this,” she said, “but there hasn’t been anyone other than Anakin and Gregar, has there?”

Padmé shook her head, the warmth of a faint blush creeping over her cheeks. 

“You can tell me to shut up if you want,” Sabé went on, “but…that must have been difficult…to have Gregar at the back of your mind. I mean, considering that things hadn’t been resolved there.” 

“It wasn’t easy,” Padmé confessed dolefully. “I couldn’t help but be reminded…” 

She didn’t elaborate further. There were some things that she didn’t wish to share, even with Sabé. And there was a particular truth that she barely admitted to herself, let alone anyone else. Namely, that her physical relationship with Anakin left her cold, almost numb. She felt warmth and affection for him, but in that situation it just wasn’t enough. It didn’t compare to what she’d felt with Gregar. It was unfair. She took her marriage vows seriously, and she had wanted it to work. But she was beginning to realise that her love for Anakin was not what he hoped it was. It was there, it always would be, but it wasn’t enough.

“I’m not in love with Anakin,” she found herself saying. The statement sounded even harsher spoken out loud. 

There was an awful, heavy sort of pause. Padmé gave a groan, burying her face in her hands. She felt Sabé slip an arm around her shoulders. 

“I’ve been really stupid, haven’t I?” she muttered. “What sort of horrible, selfish person am I?” 

“I’m not going to pretend that this will sort itself out easily,” Sabé said calmly. “But it _can_ be sorted out, Padmé. Starting with you. You need to decide what to do. If you think you can love Anakin in the way he wants, then by all means stay married to him. But if you don’t, you owe it to him to end it.” 

“You make it sound so simple,” Padmé muttered. “It’s not that I don’t love him, I just… I’m not _in_ love with him. He’s so volatile, sometimes I don’t know what to expect. And…” She let out a deep, bone-weary sigh. “Oh, Sabé. Is it possible to love two people at once?”

“Absolutely. Types of love can be as unique as fingerprints.” Her friend halted, glancing at the toes of her boots as she chose her next words. “But,” she added firmly, “there should only be one person you feel you want to spend your life with.” Then she shrugged. “Unless you’re capable of polygamy, of course, and somehow I doubt Anakin would go for that.” 

Padmé gave an unexpected snort of laughter, and Sabé grinned impishly, clearly pleased with herself for lightening the tone. 

Sobering rapidly, Padmé stared out across the sprawl of the Senate district, smoothing non-existent creases in her skirt. “I got myself into this mess, but I swore I’d find a way to make the marriage work. I told myself that my feelings for Anakin would grow and alter, but…it’s been a year, and the way I feel hasn’t changed.” 

“What about the way you feel for Gregar?” Sabé asked in a whisper, no doubt aware that the man himself was in the apartment somewhere. 

“I…” Padmé hesitated, considering. “I don’t know how I feel,” she confessed. “There’s something. I feel safe when he’s around. And there was how things were before…But I don’t know, Sabé. Things are so different now, and there’s hurt between us.”

“Some things don’t change.” 

“He probably hates me.”

“You know that’s not true,” Sabé said sensibly. “If you’re having these thoughts at all, you know that things aren’t right with Anakin.” 

Padmé nodded. “Yes, I know. But maybe I should try. I made vows to him after all.”

“Well that’s up to you,” Sabé stated sagely, sending her a reassuring smile. “But whatever you decide, you know I’m always here if you need me.”

Padmé offered her friend a watery smile and they hugged awkwardly on the steps. 

“Thank you,” she said genuinely. “When I offered you this job I truly wanted to help you, but I was also concerned. I knew this conversation had to happen and I was dreading it, but you were right. It helps to share this with someone. Thank you for forcing me to.” 

“Will you be okay?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer that truthfully. “I hope so.”

“When is Anakin back next?”

“I don’t know. Soon, I think.” 

Sabé fixed her with a stern look. “You need to decide what to do before then.”

“I know. I’ll try, but it’s difficult to know what to do.” She dabbed the skin under her eyes with her fingertips, trying to wipe away the few tears that escaped without removing any make-up. Keen to change the subject, she asked, “What about you anyway? How’s married life?”

Sabé raised her eyebrows slightly at the change of direction, but replied, “Normal. Which is unusual by everyone else’s standards. Why?”

“Just asking,” Padmé defended. “Is it strange? Living with Obi-Wan?”

“A little, but we get along well. It works. I just wish there was solid progress in getting to the bottom of what’s going on. I’m not allowed to know _anything_ about the investigation the Jedi are conducting. It’s so frustrating. I want to know what anyone would stand to gain from murdering the Order.”

Padmé leaned back, supporting her weight on her hands. “I’m not sure. You protect important people, so the logical reason to kill Order members would be to get to who they guard. But no one’s been touched except for the security. Maybe it’s a sick form of advertising. Someone wants to offer their assassination services.” 

Sabé pulled a face. “That’s a horrible thought. No offence, but I hope you’re wrong.” 

“So do I.”

They sat in silence for a moment, watching the bustle of the city, feeling the gentle breeze that drifted through the particles of the energy shield. 

“Sabé,” Padmé began after a while, “do you ever wonder whether your marriage to Obi-Wan might affect your chances of forming romantic relationships with other people?”

Sabé looked slightly taken aback, but took the question in her stride. “Um…no, not really. I’ve had relationships in the past, I’m not looking for one now.”

“Why not? Not that you need one, I was just wondering.” 

“Precisely that: I don’t need one. I don’t feel that anything is lacking from my life.”

“You never miss some things about being in love?”

Sabé wrapped her arms around her knees, drawing her body in towards her chest. It was bordering on defensive. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.”

Padmé’s eyes widened. That was news to her. “Really? What about what’s-his-name?”

“Killric? Gods, no!”

“No? I thought you were close.”

“We were close, but I never loved him,” Sabé explained with a shrug. “In the end I realised he didn’t really know me all that well, and he didn’t seem interested in rectifying that. It was a relief that we parted ways. I wonder what he’s doing now,” she pondered, in a tone that suggested she didn’t much care about the answer.

“You’ve never been in love,” Padmé stated out loud, shaking her head in disbelief. During the early days with Gregar, Sabé had seemed to take so much delight in watching the unfolding story between them that Padmé had always assumed she had a romantic nature underneath her blunt ways. 

“No, never,” the handmaiden said thoughtfully. “Something always…I don’t know. Prevented me, I guess.”

“Prevented you. Why?”

“I don’t know! You know me, Padmé, I take my duties very seriously. Just yesterday Gregar told me I have no life.” 

Padmé glanced at her friend, searching her face for deception. “Maybe it’s because there was always someone else at the back of your mind.” 

Sabé looked at her suspiciously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Despite her stubborn conduct, there was an edginess to her demeanour that suggested that she knew full well who Padmé was alluding to. 

Padmé had long suspected that there was more than friendship between Sabé and Obi-Wan. On Sabé’s part, at least. Obi-Wan was a prime example of perfect Jedi behaviour. Sabé had never stated her feelings, or even hinted at them, and Padmé had finally accepted the fact that her friend was completely oblivious to her own emotions. 

“Okay,” Padmé said simply. 

“I really hate it when you do that,” Sabé grumbled. 

Padmé smiled, amused at her tone. “I know.” 

They heard soft footfalls on the veranda behind them, and they both turned in unison. Moteé stood there, her hood shading her eyes from the glint of sunlight on transparisteel. 

“Excuse me, M’lady,” the handmaiden began, a slight frown on her face at the lack of etiquette that Padmé and Sabé were indulging in. “Senator Organa of Alderaan is here to see you.”

“Thank you, Moteé, I’ll be right there. Please get him a drink if he wants one.” 

Moteé bowed and disappeared up the steps to the apartment’s more formal lounge. 

Padmé and Sabé rose to their feet and dusted off their skirts. They made their way back into the shade, pausing to let their eyes adjust to the change of light. 

“However this situation pans out,” Padmé spoke up frankly, “I know that you have my back. And I’m glad.” 

Sabé nodded in acknowledgement. “I’ll always have your back, Padmé. And besides, you’re doing so much for me, fighting the marriage law.” 

“Well, I appreciate it.”

Sabé reached out and squeezed her shoulder, the corners of her mouth lifting in a tiny smile. “Think. That’s all you need to do, Padmé. If you really love him, you’ll know the right thing to do.” 

“If I really love him? What if he no longer loves me?” Seeing Sabé’s single raised eyebrow, she added, “You were talking about Gregar, right?”

“I wasn’t talking about either one of them specifically.” Sabé’s smile widened. “Interesting.”

Padmé felt her cheeks redden. “Oh, stop it.” 

“It’s okay, I’m going. Take some time to yourself when Senator Organa has left. Meditate like we used to do in training. It helps me when I have things to sort out. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“All right.” 

Sabé gave a nod, then left her alone. 

Padmé remained where she was for a moment, composing herself. She badly needed to clear her head, but she knew it would have to wait until she had spoken to Bail Organa. 

Sabé’s footsteps merged with a second pair on the stairs she’d vanished up, then faded. The new steps grew steadily louder, finally revealing Gregar. He was reading a data pad as he walked, his hat tucked under his arm. 

Padmé made herself move, conscious of her guest in the lounge upstairs. At the sound of her shoes on the marble, he looked up, clearly not expecting to see her there. 

“Oh. Apologies, M’lady, I thought you were with Senator Organa.”

“I’m on my way now,” she explained. “At ease, Captain.” 

His lips quirked in something that was almost a smile, and he gave a neat half-bow that was bordering on flippant. “As you say, M’lady.” 

Padmé nodded to him and continued up the steps, heart pounding. She paused at the top, trying not to let her worries consume her. She had things to do that required her to have a cool head. Promising herself some quality time for soul-searching later, she straightened up, squared her shoulders, and stepped into the role of Senator Amidala.


	12. Before The Court

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry it's been so long, guys. Going through a tough time at the moment, so just trying to carry on as normal and keep up with productive projects while I claw my way back out of the hole.

**Chapter Twelve – Before the Court.**

 

Coruscant was always a welcome sight for Anakin Skywalker. It wasn’t sandy, for one thing, something that a childhood on Tatooine made him appreciate daily. Coruscant meant rest, a break from the war, friends…home. He was fortunate enough to have two of those: the Jedi Temple and Padmé’s apartment, but it didn’t matter to Anakin where Padmé was. Her presence was enough to make him feel he was where he belonged. From the first moment he’d set eyes on her, before she was anything but a nameless stranger, he’d known that he would make her his. He’d known it, even though he’d only been nine years old and unable to grasp what it really meant. 

As his ship touched down on a landing pad at the Temple, he made his decision. The moment he was done reporting to the Council, he’d go to her and surprise her. He liked to do that, even though she’d scolded him for it in the past. It was true it was a risk, Padmé often held meetings at her apartment, but they had history dating back to the invasion of Naboo, so it was not so unusual that he should pay her a social call. 

The session with the Council turned out to be long and laborious, and it was almost sunset when Anakin was at liberty to leave the Temple. He couldn’t wait to see Padmé again. Sometimes it felt as if she was the only thing that kept the shadows at bay. 

A handmaiden answered the door to him, her look of surprise evident on her face. Anakin brought a finger up to his lips before she could speak, not wanting her to give him away. She seemed irked by the request, but nodded and kept her silence. She knew who he was, after all. He’d seen her before, but her name escaped him. 

Leaving her behind him, Anakin began his search of the apartment, eager to seek out Padmé. It didn’t take him long to find her in the veranda lounge. She was slumped on the sofa, a data pad resting loosely in one hand on her lap. Her eyes were closed, and one side of her hair was mildly dishevelled where she’d been leaning on it. It wasn’t the first time she had fallen asleep while working late. He halted for a moment, watching her, a smile spreading its way across his face. She was angelic when she slept. 

Moving quietly, he crossed the lounge to crouch down in front of her, resting a hand on her leg. She mumbled incoherently, losing her grip on the data pad. She woke with a start when it slid off her lap, making a clumsy grasp at thin air. Anakin caught it smoothly, chuckling. Padmé let out a noise that was half gasp, half yell, and he gripped her arm with his free hand.

“Hey, easy, it’s me,” he soothed. 

“Anakin?” she said incredulously, raising a hand to her chest as she caught her breath. “You startled me.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to see you.” 

He handed her the data pad and she took it, setting it on her pile of flimsi notes.

“I…uh…” she muttered, flustered. “You should have let me know you were coming.” 

“And spoil the surprise?” 

She fixed him with an unreadable look. “I would have been awake, at least.” 

“You’re awake now,” he pointed out with a smile. 

He rose to sit beside her and she straightened up, smoothing her hair. 

“Did Moteé offer you a drink?” Padmé asked conversationally. 

“I don’t need anything,” he assured her. “Just you.” 

She didn’t smile as he’d expected she would. Anakin studied her, frowning, wondering if she was just woozy from sleep. Something about her definitely seemed…off. 

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Padmé said, more warmth creeping into her voice. “Truly. I just…I wish you’d give me some notice before you turn up here.” 

A traitorous and painfully-familiar sliver of thought began to whisper petty suspicions in his mind. “Why?” he spoke up levelly. 

She glanced at him, seeming surprised by the question. “Why? Because I receive dignitaries here, I hold conference calls with my team back on Naboo, I host dinner parties, sometimes I’m out…many reasons, Anakin, and they’re not unreasonable. If anyone sees you here who shouldn’t…” 

“Are you trying to keep me away?” he snapped, before the thought was even fully-formed. 

She narrowed her eyes in response, and he felt a ripple of regret at his harsh tone. But still, the whispers would not be silenced. 

“That’s not what it’s about,” Padmé retorted. “I told you why.” 

“You haven’t even kissed me yet,” he groused. 

She didn’t reply, gazing down at her clasped hands in her lap. Anakin reached out to the Force, searching for signatures in the apartment that had no business being there. He was used to the handmaidens and the Chief of Security, so their presence did not trouble him. There were a couple of new regular visitors, though. One presence was familiar, but only at the faint edges of his memory, someone he’d met only a handful of times. The other…as recognisable to him as Padmé’s: his old master.

Reaching out for her shoulder, he turned Padmé towards him, choosing not to acknowledge the look of shock on her face. “Obi-Wan has been here, hasn’t he?” 

“Yes,” she answered at once, “he’s here most days.”

“Why?”

“Anakin, there’s something–”

“Why would he need to come here? What’s going on?”

Her anger finally finding its way into her tone, Padmé shot back, “I would tell you if you gave me chance.” 

Jealousy blinded him to her wariness and growing distress. His fear of losing her was intense. It ruled his every waking moment, made him leap straight to the worst-case scenario. 

“Are you having an affair with him?” Anakin said without thinking. 

Padmé was quiet for so long that he almost doubted whether he’d actually voiced the question aloud. Her face was an open book, declaring her shocked, concerned, and a little hurt. 

“No,” she told him at length, the word icy cold. 

“No?” he repeated doubtfully. “Then why would he come here?” 

There was more to it than she was saying, he could tell. He could think of no reason why Obi-Wan would need to visit the apartment most days unless something untoward was going on. 

_Unless he was protecting her…_ part of him inwardly theorised.

 _No,_ the shadows hissed, _she would have told you if she was in danger. It’s something else._

“I was going to–” Padmé began.

“Why, Padmé?”

“It’s not that simp–”

“Something is going on here!” he thundered. 

“It’s not me, it’s Sabé!” she shouted back, her cheeks flushed with anger. 

Anakin halted, confused. Sabé…yes, that was the faintly familiar presence he’d sensed. His mind was still awhirl with rage, disorder, suspicion, but creeping its way forward was the guilt that usually came with it. 

“It’s Sabé he comes here for,” Padmé explained coolly. “They’re married, didn’t you know?” 

He faltered, struggling to comprehend what she was saying. “They’re…what? No, that’s…that’s not possible, the Council…”

With a clatter of footsteps, Captain Typho burst into the room, stern-faced and brandishing his blaster. “Are you all right, M’lady? I heard shouting.” 

“I’m fine, Captain,” Padmé told him. Her manner was calm but Anakin could tell that her ire had not dissipated. 

Typho took in the scene with a dubious eye, and Anakin watched him stonily. 

“Truly,” Padmé added.

The captain nodded, holstering his blaster. Exchanging a long look with Padmé, he said, “I’ll be just down the hall if you need me.”

Anakin scoffed. As if a mere security guard could protect Padmé better than he could. And it was unthinkable that she would need protecting _from_ him, in any case.

She inclined her head, acknowledging the words, and Typho shot Anakin a glare before heading back the way he’d come. 

They sat in silence for a while, each harbouring their own annoyances. Anakin didn’t want to accuse her of lying, but Padmé’s explanation just didn’t make sense. Obi-Wan married? It was ludicrous. He didn’t see how his stoic former master could even know what it truly was to love. He doubted that any feelings of that sort had ever touched Obi-Wan’s heart. The man was a dedicated Jedi, to say the least. 

“What did you mean?” he ventured at last. “Obi-Wan and Sabé…”

“It’s true,” Padmé told him squarely. 

“How can it be? When you _know_ the Council would never allow–”

“Anakin, do you want to know or not?” she snapped crossly. At his nod, she added, “Well let me explain it, then.” She sighed noisily, reaching for her data pad. “Sabé asked him for help, she was being set up in an arranged marriage that she didn’t want, with a man she thinks might be dangerous. In order to get her out of it, Obi-Wan agreed to marry her instead. The Council granted them a dispensation because it’s a marriage in name only. The story broke on the HoloNet a week ago, look.” She pulled up the news story on her data pad and handed it to him. 

Anakin read the first few lines, seeing the confirmation in sensationalist text. His mind whirled, trying to make sense of it. “So they’re not…you know, _together_ then?” 

“No. They’re friends, they always have been, but that’s all.”

“Their situation isn’t like ours,” he stated.

“No. Sabé works for me, Obi-Wan has been assigned to be her protector, that’s why he’s here most days.” She rubbed her eyes wearily before sending him a jaded glance. “You can see Obi-Wan tomorrow and ask him yourself.” 

Anakin stared at the polished floor, processing the strange turn of events. Padmé silently fumed beside him, and he felt a wave of remorse at the way he’d overreacted. That was the way it always happened. He concealed his fear of losing her, and so it grew wildly out of control, causing him to react emotionally and say things he later regretted bitterly. All the while he was acutely aware that such behaviour would only push her away, but he couldn’t stop it. It was like he was programmed to react without rational thought, against his better judgement, and he didn’t know what to do. All his life he’d fought against it, with little success. 

_You know why you’re not successful,_ a tiny voice at the back of his mind whispered, _you like the darkness. It makes you feel strong, and you should be strong. You’re the Chosen One._

 _I don’t want to be strong if it hurts Padmé_ , another part of him insisted. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. 

“Would you please go?” Padmé asked quietly. “I want to be alone tonight.”

It stung him, but he nodded, even as another dark tendril had him gritting his teeth in irritation. He knew it was his own doing, which just made it worse. 

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

“I…have meetings all morning, but after that, yes.” 

He got to his feet, unsure what else to say. Leaning down, he planted a kiss on her hair, then reluctantly left her. 

The cold night air bit into him when he stepped outside her apartment building, and he pondered what to do. He wanted guidance, he realised, and reassurance. For a brief moment he considered trying to find Obi-Wan, but his name only reminded Anakin of the incident that had just happened. That wasn’t Obi-Wan’s fault, he knew, but all the same… Obi-Wan was the last person that Anakin wanted to see. And he hadn’t even acknowledged the bantha in the room; namely that his apathetic, unromantic former master was openly married _and_ had retained his position in the Jedi Order, while the supposed Chosen One was forced to live a life of secrecy. Anakin hadn’t yet turned his thoughts towards that little detail, afraid that if he did his anger would truly erupt. He couldn’t decide if Obi-Wan’s lack of affection for his wife made it better or worse. 

Anakin clenched his teeth against a snarl of irritation. He definitely needed to talk to someone, but with Obi-Wan and Padmé closed off, he wasn’t sure who else to turn to. It was far beyond Ahsoka’s input, mature as she was for her age. But of course, he’d missed the obvious answer. 

Wrapping his cloak around him, he set off walking, his destination suddenly clear to him. Chancellor Palpatine was always willing to help him. 

***

_‘Dear Syrena,_

_I realise this letter is almost three months too late, but I thought I would give you chance to settle into married life. Mother and Father told me what happened. I confess, I was shocked. Eloping is a drastic move, even for you, but I’m sure you had your reasons. Father is resigned to what you did, but Mother still seems a little bitter. I hope time will cure it. Seeing as you haven’t spoken to either of them since you told them of your marriage, I thought you might want to know that they’re both well, and just as they ever were. They haven’t said so, but I believe that they’d like to hear from you soon. You shouldn’t punish them forever, they genuinely thought they were setting you up with a good life._

_Jensen and I are doing fine. I’m having to dress around the bump now! By the way, we’re having a boy. We haven’t thought of a name yet though. Promise me you’ll visit when he’s born. I want him to meet his Aunt Syrena._

_I hope the life you’ve chosen is working out for you. I want my little sister to be happy._

_Hope to hear from you soon,_

_Idriel.’_

***

_‘Dear Idriel,_

_Thank you for your letter. It was nice to hear from you. I’m glad things are well with you and the bump, I’m sure Jensen is looking after you both. Of course I’ll visit when your son is born, I would love to see him, even if you don’t want me teaching him how to fire a blaster!_

_Thank you for the update on our parents, but I’m not ready to forgive them yet. Maybe I will in time, but it’s too raw for me right now. I hope you can understand why._

_My life on Coruscant keeps me busy, but I enjoy that. Planning security for Padmé is not like planning security for the Queen, and I like the challenge. Of course, it would be much easier if she stopped upsetting powerful people, but that’s Padmé. Don’t tell our parents I said that._

_I hope Mother and Father explained to you why I married Obi-Wan Kenobi. It wasn’t really what you’d call an elopement, it’s more of a business arrangement between him and me. It suits us both more than we’d anticipated, which is good. Obi-Wan is still able to maintain his loyalty to the Jedi. You may have heard of him. The HoloNet calls him The Negotiator._

_My shift starts soon, so I must go. Take care of yourself. Love to Jensen and the bump._

_Sabé.’_

***

Little changed during the months following Sabé’s marriage to Obi-Wan. The war continued to rage across the galaxy. There were no attacks on Order members after the hit on Lord Demara’s bodyguard, and there was no further sign of Daedrin’s accomplice. Daedrin himself was a picture of senatorial efficiency and innocence. Sabé was assured that the investigation was still underway, but the speed of it and the continual lack of information was a source of constant frustration for her. Obi-Wan had reminded her that Daedrin was intelligent enough to know that there was a possibility that someone was on to him, which explained the halt in the murders. Neither one of them believed that they had stopped altogether. 

Following their conversation on the veranda, Sabé was unsure what Padmé had decided to do regarding her situation. She knew that her friend had been shaken by Anakin’s unexpected visit a few days after. Padmé hadn’t spoken of it, but Gregar had told her what he’d observed, and Sabé could guess the rest. Being reminded of her husband’s possessiveness had no doubt played a part in Padmé’s decision not to act. Sabé couldn’t blame her. It sounded very unlikely that Anakin would let her go easily, if that was what she wanted. It was concerning, to say the least. Sabé was sure that Obi-Wan could provide some insight, but that would mean telling him about his former Padawan’s marriage, not to mention the past history between Padmé and Gregar. 

Padmé had been keeping herself busy with work, often to the point of exhaustion. Sabé suspected that she was trying to stop herself thinking too much. She sympathised, but disapproved of her methods, and frequently tried to persuade her friend to eat proper meals and take breaks from her work. 

It was very clear to Sabé, who had the benefit of an outsider’s view, what was in her friend’s heart. Padmé had never stopped loving Gregar, that had always been true, but it was only a small part of the issue. Sabé knew that Padmé could have been happy with Anakin, but his unpredictable behaviour, his angry, jealous streak, was steadily leeching away any affection she had for him. It compared rather unfavourably with Gregar’s unselfish loyalty. Padmé could easily have found happiness with either one of them, and circumstances had made her choose Gregar. It was a choice she hadn’t consciously made yet, but Sabé knew it was only a matter of time. What she was less sure about was the outcome of the whole messy situation. It wouldn’t be pretty, that was for sure. 

As for her own situation, it was boring by comparison. She and Obi-Wan continued on as normal, nothing ever changed. As time went on with no more Order members murdered, Obi-Wan began to take on other minor assignments from the Jedi Council, his period of suspension cut conveniently short. They were always Coruscant-based, and he was never away for long, but he no longer felt the need to be her constant shadow. 

Sabé, Moteé and Teckla had no serious trouble from any of Padmé’s enemies. They had formed a strong working bond, although Sabé did not feel particularly close to either of them. Moteé was blunt and spiky, but one of the most proficient warriors Sabé had ever seen. They worked together to train Teckla in more forms of combat, and the quiet woman was making good progress. Moteé still visited her sick friend, who, it turned out, was not likely to make a recovery any time soon. She was secretive about that, but Sabé let her be. She knew it couldn’t be easy for her. 

Gregar remained his stoic self, carrying out his duties with his usual diligence. He’d struck up a friendship with Obi-Wan, which pleased Sabé, and they never seemed to run out of topics to discuss. 

It had been almost four months since Sabé had first heard of the marriage law, and she and Obi-Wan had finally been called to speak to the court on Naboo with Padmé. It would be the first of many sessions, she was sure. Overturning a law was a complicated business. 

“This may all be over soon, Sabé,” the senator said as they packed for the trip.

Sabé glanced up from her struggle with a gown that did not want to lie straight in the suitcase. “I guess so.” She tilted her head, thinking.

Padmé shot her a look. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? The law revoked.” 

“Of course it is,” she replied, confused that Padmé would even ask such a question. 

“Then why do you look like I just ordered you on a suicide mission?”

Sabé opened her mouth to speak, but realised she didn’t have a ready answer. “Do I?”

Padmé tossed a handful of hair accessories into her case. “Yes, you really do. What’s wrong?”

She paused, debating the question. What _was_ wrong? It was definitely something. 

“I… Nothing. It’s just…strange. I’d just about got used to this version of normal.” She shrugged, triumphing over the dress and smoothing it down. “As soon as the law gets revoked, _if_ it gets revoked, the Jedi Council will order an annulment and kick me out of their safe-house. It will be jarring to start all over again.”

“Without Obi-Wan,” Padmé added slyly. 

Sabé nodded silently, slightly alarmed by how depressed that statement made her feel. That was what had been bothering her all morning, she realised. The thought of being without him gnawed at her belly like a particularly unpleasant case of butterflies. 

Forgetting about what was proper behaviour for a handmaiden, she pushed Padmé’s suitcase aside and sat down on the edge of the bed. _Why_ had she come to this realisation? They’d been getting along just fine, no awkwardness to mar their relationship. Sabé had even dared to think that they were happy. To bring unrequited feelings into it could be disastrous. And yet… Weren’t they already there? Hadn’t she been repressing her growing admiration for him since the wedding? 

She felt dizzy as the hidden truths bombarded her, unleashed by Padmé’s simple statement. Leaning forward, she stared resolutely at the floor, waiting for the vertigo to subside. 

“Sabé, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m just having a moment. Just…ignore me, please.” 

Of course Padmé would not be told what to do. The hem of her gown appeared in Sabé’s line of sight, and she felt her friend’s hand rest on her shoulder. 

“Hey, you’re okay. Breathe, Sabé. What is it?” Lowering her voice, she hissed, “It’s Obi-Wan, isn’t it? You have feelings for him.” 

She scrambled to hide her revelation. “No! No, of course not. I’m just…used to having him around, that’s all.” 

“Used to having him around?” Padmé said doubtfully. 

Sabé nodded, staring at the floor. It was not terribly interesting, although she distractedly thought she could see the place where Padmé had once been startled by a surprise appearance from Anakin and had dropped a glass of juice.

“Really?” the senator went on, her tone confident. “It looks to me that you’re only just beginning to discover how far your feelings go, and the thought that you may feel more than you should scares you.” 

Sabé’s floor analysis had calmed her enough to look up and meet her friend’s gaze. She was horrified that she was so easy to read. Padmé’s assessment hit too close to the mark, and she spoke with a voice of experience. 

Everything Sabé planned to say vanished from her mind. “What do I do?” she asked, lost and troubled.

Padmé gave her a sad, resolved little look. “You do what you can, even if that’s just to carry on.” 

***

They were a small party travelling to Naboo, just Padmé, Sabé, Obi-Wan and Gregar. Obi-Wan received a transmission during the journey from Mace Windu warning them that Senator Daedrin had left Coruscant for an unknown destination. It was assumed that he had gone home to Axum, but they knew better than to believe assumptions. 

They had a pleasantly unhurried walk through Theed, not bothering with formalities for once. The three Naboo residents kept Obi-Wan entertained with stories of their youth at the palace. Sabé almost felt the years slipping away as she talked with Padmé and Gregar, but there was still an edge between them, the more hurtful elements of the past. 

For important cases that demanded the Queen’s presence, the court held its session at the palace. Since Sabé and Padmé were working on bringing down an entire law, they weren’t surprised to have attracted the attention of the Queen. 

The group knew the way well, and cut along many paths off the beaten track. The fastest route led them through a series of narrow, labyrinthine back streets that were barely wide enough for a single speeder. It was easy to get lost in that part of Theed unless one was intimately familiar with every corner of it. Fortunately, Sabé, Padmé and Gregar all knew the way to the palace, having cut down the side streets many times when they lived there. 

They were only ten minutes away when Obi-Wan suddenly whipped round, his lightsaber already ignited in his hand. A blaster bolt bounced off the blade as he stepped in front of the others. A small metal object flew towards them, getting caught in a planter above their heads.

“Move!” Obi-Wan yelled, pushing Sabé aside. 

Gregar was already in motion, grabbing Padmé’s arm and leaping away. 

The grenade exploded, bringing half the street down and blocking their path. Obi-Wan and Sabé had dived down the street nearest to them, but there was no sign of Padmé and Gregar. Sabé checked herself for injuries, but found nothing but a few bruises. Obi-Wan had been able to extend his jump with the Force, taking them both far away from the falling debris. 

“Are you all right?” he asked her, helping her to her feet.

She nodded. “Thanks to you.” 

Turning, she surveyed the damage. The way back was entirely blocked by smoking rubble. She frantically tapped the activation switch on her emergency com ear piece.

“Sabé to Typho, do you read me?” There was silence. “Gregar, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

A burst of static, then, “We’re okay, Sabé. What about you?”

“We’re fine,” she replied, dizzy with relief. 

“We’re completely cut off,” he said. “It’ll take us ages to try and find you, and it might not be safe to try. We’re going to take another route to the palace.”

“Good thinking. We’ll meet you there.”

“See you shortly. Typho out.” 

“We need to hurry,” Obi-Wan spoke up. “If the shooter was after you rather than Padmé, it would be wise to leave this area.” 

“Agreed. Did you see anyone?”

He shook his head, frowning. “No. I just sensed the intent at the last minute.”

“Thank the gods you did,” she said gratefully, briefly touching his arm. “Come on, follow me.”

Keeping pace, they set off running. 

***

Being without Force abilities, Padmé and Gregar were unable to move as far or fast as Obi-Wan, and so found themselves lying with their arms over their heads to protect themselves from the raining shrapnel. Gregar had tried to shield Padmé as much as possible, but she was still covered in stones and transparisteel, coughing brick dust. Her cheek was grazed where she had scraped it whilst diving away, but she was otherwise unharmed. 

Padmé felt Gregar squeeze her upper arm, and realised that they had grabbed onto each other as they fell. She let go of his sleeve and slowly sat up. 

“Are you okay?” he said at once, pushing himself up to his knees. 

“I’m fine, just cuts and bruises.”

His head tilted as he listened to his com, and she sat still while he conferred with Sabé. 

“They’re okay,” he reported, “they’re going to meet us at the palace.” 

“That’s good.” She got awkwardly to her feet, staring in horror at the pile of rubble. 

“We can’t worry about other people now,” Gregar stated brusquely, guessing her thoughts. “The authorities will be here soon.” 

She turned to him to argue the point, and she saw that he had a cut above his eye that had left a thin trickle of blood down his cheek. 

“We need to get going, M’lady,” he insisted. 

“You’re hurt.”

He shook off her concern. “It’s nothing. Now let’s go.” 

They jogged in silence for a few moments, weaving their way through the maze of alleys until they reached a small alcove where Padmé called a halt. 

“We shouldn’t linger here,” Gregar said gruffly, folding his arms as Padmé calmly sat down on the stone bench that was tucked into the niche. 

“We’re safe enough for a short while. Come here, I want to look at that cut.”

He seemed about to argue with her, but Padmé gazed at him adamantly. Still, he frowned.

“I told you, it’s nothing,” he said. “We don’t have time for this.” 

“I’m making time,” she said firmly. “Now sit down, Captain, that’s an order.” 

He clenched his teeth against a retort, appearing to wait as long as he dared before sitting next to her. 

Padmé ignored that. “Do you have a medikit?” she asked.

Wordlessly, he unclipped a pouch from his belt and handed it to her. Padmé fished out an antiseptic wipe and ripped the packet open. 

“Hold still,” she muttered, her tone gentler but still inviting no arguments. 

Gregar tensed a little as she lightly held his face, cleaning the wound. She chose not to think about how close they were, or how her fingertips tingled where they touched his skin. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. 

“The cut’s deep,” she told him, “but it looks clean.”

“Good.” 

He winced as she carefully removed a bit of grit. 

“Sorry,” she murmured. 

“Don’t be,” he placated, his voice catching. “I…would prefer it was properly cleaned.” 

She finished removing the dried blood and set about holding the cut closed with strips of tape. 

“There,” she said as she patted the last one into place. “Done.” 

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, all traces of his earlier annoyance gone. 

She met his gaze for a brief moment before glancing quickly away. He hesitated, then reached out and placed a gloved hand under her chin, his touch barely making an impact. Padmé felt her heartbeat speed up, and found her mouth was suddenly dry and empty of words. Gently, he turned her face towards him and ran a finger alongside the graze on her cheek. 

“This is going to bruise,” he declared quietly. 

“I’ve been clawed by a nexu,” she told him, “I can handle a bruise.”

He smiled, and she realised she hadn’t seen it in a while. It was good to have him relaxed enough to smile around her. Pulling another antiseptic wipe from the medikit, he cleaned the tiny cuts along her cheekbone. 

Padmé found herself staring down at her lap, aware that there was nowhere else to look but at him. 

“Thank you for pulling me out of the way,” she said. 

“It’s my job,” he replied impassively. 

She knew he was protecting himself by acting as if this moment meant nothing, but his tone hurt. More than she would have expected. 

“I know,” she shot back evenly, “but I’m still grateful.” 

She felt the cool sting of the antiseptic vanish, and he lowered his hand. Aware that it was unwise, Padmé slowly glanced up. He was looking at her, his gaze intense but his expression carefully guarded. She hardly dared to breathe. They were closer than either of them had allowed for some time. They were usually so careful. Gregar’s glance briefly dropped to her lips, and she distractedly wondered what he was thinking. 

Padmé wasn’t sure what they would have let happen next, but Gregar jumped and moved away, listening to something on his com. 

“We got held up,” he said to the person on the other end, whom she assumed was Sabé. “We’ll be right there. Typho out.” 

He did not look at her, moving away to survey the path ahead. Padmé could feel their momentary closeness turning back into aloof professionalism. It left her feeling cold. She said nothing, busying herself with clearing away the medikit. Being around Anakin never made her feel so jumpy, so aware of the space between them. Or so alive. His attentions were sweet, when he was in a good mood, and they warmed her heart, but it was nothing compared to how the most basic of contact with Gregar made her feel. It was not exactly a surprising revelation, but it seemed to have a finality about it, as if she had been waiting to see how she felt before deciding how to act.

She struggled against the guilt, knowing how her thoughts would hurt Anakin, and wishing she could sort things out without harming him. She knew she needed to talk to Sabé. An impassive viewpoint would be helpful, and she needed to find clarity. But in the meantime she needed to focus on what she was going to say to the court.

“Are you ready, M’lady?” Gregar asked, managing to meet her gaze, his expression the very definition of neutral. 

“Yes, Captain,” she replied softly. “Lead on.” 

They made it to the palace, where Sabé and Obi-Wan were waiting. They too were covered in masonry dust, but they seemed unharmed. Sabé fussed over their injuries before she was interrupted by one of Queen Neeyutnee’s handmaidens, who offered them a place to tidy up. Sabé fixed the damage to Padmé’s elaborate hairdo as best she could, and they all brushed down their clothes. A palace security officer took their report about the attack, which they relayed faithfully, but for making any mention of who they suspected to be behind it. 

Finally, they made their way to the throne room, where the Queen was presiding over the day’s cases. Padmé led the others into the middle of the room, where they stood facing the Queen. The legal council occupied the chairs that formed a circle around them, save for its two chief councillors, who sat either side of the throne. 

Padmé returned the respectful nod that Queen Neeyutnee sent her, finding it strange to be back in a legal council session and not be overseeing it. 

“Case 1138,” spoke up the protocol droid at the sidelines, “Senator Padmé Amidala versus the law of arranged marriage sanctioned by King Cossaka’s court.” 

“Senator Amidala,” one of the chief councillors, a man named Sirus, began, “you seek to overturn this law, correct?”

“Yes, Councillor Sirus,” Padmé replied obediently. 

“On what grounds?” 

“On grounds of it being totally unnecessary,” she stated baldly “Not only is it 300 years out of date, but the circumstances that determined the decision to form the law in the first place are no longer in play. Naboo is a very different planet since the troubles of King Cossaka’s reign, and we no longer suffer from the disease that killed so many children. On top of that, I would add that it puts women in an unacceptably vulnerable position and assumes that all women wish to marry men. We live in different, more liberal times now.” 

Several of the councillors nodded in agreement to the last statements.

“Our laws should be for the benefit and protection of all Naboo’s citizens,” Padmé continued, feeling more comfortable as she got into her stride, “not just those in a position of power.” 

“Senator Amidala,” the Queen spoke up, “your arguments are valid and your logic is impeccable, as always, but for procedure’s sake we must hear from someone to speak on the law’s behalf.” 

“Of course,” Padmé said nodding, inwardly groaning at the thought of listening to a council member fumbling for proper reasons to keep the law in place. 

For the next twenty minutes she traded points with Councillor Dax Annis, a pompous, middle-aged man who apparently saw no harm in the law. She was fairly confident that her arguments outweighed his misguided attempts to justify it, and found the points he raised offensive, short-sighted, and vastly wide of the mark. 

The court heard from Sabé, who conveyed her opinion politely but firmly as she explained the events leading up to her marriage. Then they heard from Obi-Wan, who added weight to their argument when he said that he valued Sabé’s freedom above the relevant points of the Jedi Code. Padmé wasn’t sure how much of his statement was entirely true, but it certainly made an impact. 

“Your course of action screams desperation, Lady Sabé,” one of the councillors spoke up, her tone superior. “What were you really running from?”

“As I’ve already said,” Sabé replied, smoothly polite as she struggled to keep her temper. “I knew a drastic decision had to be made, not only to secure my freedom of choice, but to bring the obvious negative points of this law to light.” 

Padmé glanced at her, shooting her a warning look. It would do no good to antagonise the council. Sabé gave the tiniest of nods, her expression becoming noticeable calmer as she gained control. 

“But you must admit–”

“Councillor Tiess,” Queen Neeyutnee’s quiet voice cut in, “Lady Sabé was part of my security team for over a year. I know her to be an honest young woman. May we move on? This badgering is off point.” 

The councillor struggled with her instinct to press the matter further, but eventually nodded, bowing to the Queen before retaking her seat. 

“Does anyone have anything else to add?” Chief Councillor Sirus asked.

Silence floated back to him.

“All right. As you are no doubt aware, Senator Amidala, dissolving a law is a serious matter, one which will take a little more time to reach verdict than a regular case. We will take everything into consideration and come to a decision when procedure allows. The Queen will also make a decision. If the verdicts of Queen and council do not align, we may call you to speak at a reassessment. Do you understand all of this?”

“Yes, Councillor,” Padmé said, managing to keep the patronising tone from her voice, despite dearly wishing to include it. 

“Very good. You may go.”

The party bowed to Queen Neeyutnee before doing just that. 

They were scheduled to stay one night in Theed before heading back to Coruscant, to give Padmé, Sabé and Gregar time to visit their families. Padmé hadn’t seen her parents in a long while, and Sabé was willing to see Idriel and Jensen, if not her own parents. Gregar wished to look in on his uncle Panaka, his only living relative. It would be a busy day of visiting before they journeyed home. 

They were staying at Padmé’s residence in Theed, a basic yet comfortable house in the centre of the city. Queen Neeyutnee sent one of her handmaidens with them to prepare dinner for them all, declaring that they must all rest after the attack in the streets. Sabé was pleasantly surprised to have an evening off and happily surrendered the kitchen to the Queen’s aide. 

Padmé was quiet during dinner and their retreat to the lounge afterward. Sabé sat beside her, apparently listening to Obi-Wan and Gregar’s conversation about Chancellor Palpatine’s policies. Padmé wasn’t paying attention to it, but she couldn’t help looking in their direction, studying Gregar’s face as he talked. She was vaguely aware of Sabé switching her gaze between her and the two men.

Then her friend said softly, “What is it?” 

Padmé turned to her, feeling a little guilty for causing the obvious concern in Sabé’s brown eyes. She knew that Sabé had not forgotten what they had talked about on the veranda all those weeks ago, but her handmaiden had grown used to pretending the conversation hadn’t happened. And now Padmé found the truth, although firmly settled in her mind, halted on her tongue. And then, suddenly, it was said, quietly and without fanfare. 

“I love him.” 

Sabé nodded, her expression grave. “I know.” 

“What do I do?”

The handmaiden met her gaze, not hesitating with her reply. “You carry on, until you know how to move forward.” 

“And you, Sabé?” Padmé asked gently. 

Sabé glanced over at Obi-Wan, who was nodding in agreement with whatever Gregar was saying. “Yes,” she answered simply, barely above a whisper. 

***

Obi-Wan was not surprised when Sabé requested a training spar almost as soon as they’d returned to their apartment after reporting to the Jedi Council. She was angry about the previous day’s attack in Theed, which had hurt civilians as well as Padmé and Gregar, and needed to work out her aggression. Although the technique was so far from his own, calmer Jedi methods, he understood her need to fight her anger head on. He knew her well enough to know that her anger gave her focus. He would have considered it a Sith practice in anyone with Force abilities, but Sabé never let her fury control her, preferring to use it as fuel for her adrenaline. And she never considered it an ally, seeming grateful when she could be calm again. Still, taking note of how annoyed she was, he deemed it safer to his own well-being to fight without weapons for the first few rounds. 

Both barefoot and free of anything that might be hurtful in close-quarter combat, they faced each other in the space they’d made in the lounge. Sabé had pulled her hair back severely, which he distantly observed made the sharp angles of her face stand out more, giving her a striking yet stern look. 

For the first few minutes he was purely on the defensive, letting her hit out at him, fending off her blows. After that he fought properly, and they battled each other in silence. Sabé, as always, presented a challenge in her nimble movements and quick reactions, but his Jedi training still gave him the advantage. She hated losing, but he knew that if he let her win she would hate that more. 

She attempted a fast-paced series of moves that almost had him in difficulty, but he turned the tables at the last minute, flipping her onto her back. 

“That was good,” he said. “You’re getting sharper with that.” 

She accepted his hand up, wincing at her new bruises. “Good to know. Let’s go again.”

“Are you sure?”

She rolled her eyes at him, blowing loose strands of hair out of her face. “Yes. Come on, I can handle it.”

The fight was shorter that time, as Sabé was wearing herself out with her aggressive moves. It ended the same way as the previous one. She let out a grunt as she hit the floor. He offered her his hand again and she reached up to him. Before he knew it, she had kicked out at his legs, tugging his arm to bring him down beside her. 

“That’s cheating,” he declared as they both stared up the ceiling. 

“Yep,” she admitted cheerfully.

Confident in her reflexes, he hit out at her. She caught his wrist before he caused any damage. 

“Nice try!” she said with a grin. 

He pulled his arm back, but she hadn’t quite let go, and he suddenly found her sprawled across him. They both caught their breath. He detected a faint pink flush on her cheeks. Inevitably, he was reminded of the last time they had been in a similar position. All at once he was torn between two instincts: to push her away and to pull her closer. A little startled and concerned about the latter, he gently moved her backwards. She shifted further back on her own, staring at the floor.

“Sorry,” they both said at once. Then they met each other’s gaze and laughed. 

Obi-Wan got to his feet and held out his hand once more. This time she let him pull her up. 

“Good match,” Sabé stated after a pause. “I’m going to head to the fresher.” 

He nodded in reply to both points and watched her flee the room. Briefly closing his eyes, he let out a sigh. He sat cross-legged on the sofa and drifted into meditation, determined to clear his mind, and try and work out exactly what his instincts thought they were doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward! No matter, though, meditation solves all your woes. Apparently.


	13. Origins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry it's been a while again, guys. Life got lifey.

**Chapter Thirteen – Origins.**

 

Anakin had waited an entire day before visiting Senator Amidala. As Obi-Wan overheard Padmé greeting him in a friendly but quiet manner, he realised he was surprised. Part of him always expected Anakin to call on her as soon as he landed. He heard Padmé request tea from Sabé, and the soft rumble of Anakin’s refusal. 

Sabé was working until late, and the Jedi Council had nothing else for him to do, so Obi-Wan was indulging in a personal research project. He’d covered half of the desk Padmé was kindly letting him use with scraps of flimsi, and his own handwritten notepad was untidy to say the least. He couldn’t help but feel a strange mixture of relaxed and guilty. Relaxed because he was enjoying his task, guilty because his fellow Jedi were helping the war effort. Still, he’d asked the Council if they had any local business he could take care of, they’d said no. His guilt was a negative drain he didn’t need, so he focused and let it go. 

A short while later, he heard Anakin’s distinctive gait in the hallway, and wasn’t surprised to see his former Padawan’s lanky frame in the doorway. 

“Hello, Master,” Anakin greeted him. He looked tired and troubled. 

“You don’t have to call me that anymore,” Obi-Wan reminded him with a smile. 

“Old habits die hard,” Anakin said, shrugging and entering the room. He plopped down into a chair, sending a few flimsi pages skittering across the desk. 

Obi-Wan righted them without comment, but his expression made Anakin snigger. 

“Not that boring history stuff again.”

“It’s not boring,” Obi-Wan defended, knowing full well his words were falling on deaf ears. “It’s interesting.”

“Sure,” Anakin said dryly. 

“How was your mission?”

“Successful. Nothing much to report.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat for a moment, and when he spoke again he was guarded. “I, uh, heard you got married.” 

Obi-Wan nodded, clearly hearing the very obvious nonchalance in Anakin’s voice. “It was the best path,” he spoke up. “If not the smoothest one. There’s been quite a lot of gossip.”

“I’m surprised the Council went for it.”

“It was an unconventional plan,” Obi-Wan agreed. “If there had been any sort of scandal between Sabé and myself, it might have been different. As it is, nothing much has changed.” 

_Nothing much…_ Obi-Wan added inwardly.

Anakin’s face twitched, as if he’d been on the verge of saying something, and he glanced away in silence. 

Obi-Wan watched him wearily, hoping they weren’t about to have yet another argument on the rules of the Jedi Code. There had been far too many of those while Anakin had been growing up. He’d been silent on the subject for years, yet Obi-Wan suspected his viewpoint had only grown stronger, especially since meeting Padmé again. That was a conversation he really didn’t want to have. He knew there would be a high likelihood of it throwing up secrets he was better off not knowing.

The silence was deafening, and Obi-Wan was struck with the strange impression that Anakin had a lot more to say – perhaps was doing so in some internal rant – that he didn’t dare voice. The thought worried him immensely in all that it implied. 

“Are you working on catching Sabé’s assailant?” Anakin said at last. 

“The Council is.”

“That’s good.” 

Another pause. 

“I’d better get back to Padmé,” he added, standing. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Of course. Any excuse to get away from boring history stuff.”

Anakin quirked a small smile at that. “Yup. See you later.”

Listening to the sound of Anakin’s departing footsteps, Obi-Wan rested his chin on his clasped hands and frowned. 

_Why do I get the feeling that we just side-stepped a much bigger conversation?_

The thought left him unsettled, and he hoped that avoidance wouldn’t escalate the problem. If there even _was_ a problem. 

***

“You can laugh if this is wide of the mark,” Obi-Wan began one evening as they ate dinner in the apartment, “but…is there something between Padmé and Gregar?”

Sabé lowered her fork, eyebrows raised at the question she wasn’t anticipating. “Oh,” she said with a little laugh. 

“Am I wrong?” 

“No. No, you’re not wrong.” At the back of her mind, she was trying not to panic. If he had picked up on Padmé and Gregar’s feelings, who was to say he would not pick up on hers? “It’s, uh, kind of complicated. And a long story.”

He set his cutlery aside on his empty plate, saying encouragingly, “We have time. I’d like to hear it, if you don’t mind. I wouldn’t want to say anything tactless to either of them.” 

Sabé smiled. “I can’t imagine you saying anything tactless to anybody.” 

“You’ve clearly never heard me speak to Asajj Ventress.” 

She gave a quiet huff of laughter and reached for her glass. "I've not had the pleasure of meeting her, which is absolutely fine by me." She sipped the light, fruity wine and took in Obi-Wan's smile, keeping her expression carefully guarded even as she let herself look. "Let's see... I guess I should go back to when Padmé was elected Queen.” Placing her glass on the table, she leaned back in her chair, pondering how to begin. “Before she took office, we had a period of three weeks between her election and her coronation in which to prepare ourselves for her reign,” she explained. “We handmaidens had been on standby during the election, and as soon as it was over we started training together. We knew each other by sight from our time in the Order, but we'd not had the opportunity to work closely together. Since she wasn't officially monarch yet, Padmé decided to train with us." 

"However did she get away with that?" Obi-Wan asked. "I can't see Captain Panaka being too happy about it." 

"Oh, he wasn't," Sabé said, amused by the memory. "He thought it would be a security risk, revealing her identity, but she was adamant that nobody would notice. They spent the best part of a morning arguing about it, I remember. Padmé wore him down eventually. Partly because there was some logic to her arguments and partly because...well, she's Padmé." 

Obi-Wan chuckled, nodding his agreement. He'd seen the senator's stubbornness first-hand. 

"So, she started training with us, working on self-defence. We made sure she was proficient with a blaster, since she would never be a warrior, and Panaka grudgingly agreed to let her join us when we met the Palace Guard."

"And Gregar was an officer," Obi-Wan surmised. 

Sabé nodded. "Yes, he was a junior officer, only eighteen, and very green. We all were back then. When we first came together, the two halves of the royal security team, luck placed Gregar and me opposite each other, so I noticed right away that he couldn't take his eyes off Padmé." She grinned impishly, recalling his stares. "It was actually very sweet. If I'd been less nice I could have teased them both mercilessly. Fortunately for them, I'm a better friend than that. Pity."

"I know you're not as cruel as you make out, so I'm ignoring that," he told her with an air of superiority. 

She pulled a face at him and continued. “Gregar and Padmé made friends pretty much as soon as they started talking. Panaka had asked me to stick close to her just in case, so I kind of got dragged into it almost by accident, but soon enough the three of us were inseparable.”

“Did Gregar know that Padmé was also Queen Amidala?”

“Uh, no. That was the first snag in their relationship, actually.” Sabé sat up straighter in her seat, leaning her folded arms on the table. “She was worried that he’d treat her differently if he knew, and she just wanted to be a person to him, not a queen. But…of course, the secret was out at the coronation. He recognised her, even behind the face paint and the headdresses.”

Obi-Wan studied her as she talked, his expression thoughtful. “What happened?” 

“He was stunned, I think. And dismayed. He confided in me later that he’d wanted more than friendship with Padmé, but he didn’t think there was even the possibility of it with her the ruler of a planet and him just a low-ranking soldier.”

“What did you tell him?”

Sabé smiled to herself as she recalled. “I told him to be patient. I said nothing was certain, and Padmé wouldn’t be a queen forever. Finally he agreed to continue being her friend, if nothing else, and treat her as he always had when it was appropriate to do so. I was glad, because Padmé needed friends, and I didn’t want to be her only one. Being Queen was…stressful, to say the least. When she was with Gregar and me she could be herself.” 

By silent agreement, they rose to their feet and took their plates to the kitchen, moving around each other with fluid ease as they tidied things away. 

Sabé went on with her story as they worked. “As an outsider, it was easy for me to see how they were both feeling. Gregar was head over heels, but he kept it mostly to himself, always aware of the differences in their rank. He was happy to have her friendship. Padmé seemed oblivious. I’m still not completely sure if she guessed or not. Anyway, for her it took longer for something to develop. She had a lot on her mind establishing her strength as Queen.”

“Did the invasion of the Trade Federation interfere with all of this?” Obi-Wan asked, leaning back against the kitchen units. 

“I was just getting to that, actually. A lot of it you already know,” she said, mirroring his stance. “Obviously Padmé and I escaped with you, but Gregar stayed behind with the majority of the Palace Guard. He was among those who formed the underground resistance movement, if you remember that.” 

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “They joined us on the outskirts of the swamp.” 

“That’s it. We didn’t have time or opportunity to greet each other, aside from grinning like idiots across the camp! We got separated again pretty soon after Padmé went through her battle strategy. I think I told you my side of the battle when it was over, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “I was glad. I needed to keep my mind away from dark thoughts after what happened with Qui-Gon and the Sith. Talking with you helped more than you know.” 

Sabé blushed a little, trying not to look too pleased at the thought of him needing her. It seemed insensitive considering what he had gone through at the time. 

“I was glad to help,” she stated simply, covering her emotional response. “Uh…when I met back up with Padmé, we realised that neither of us had seen Gregar since before the battle. We eventually found him in the medical bay. It was filled beyond capacity, it was…awful.”

“I can imagine,” he said sympathetically. 

“Gregar was unconscious when we got there. He’d lost his eye, and there was blood everywhere, it was… Well, I’m sure you can guess. Padmé couldn’t stay with him, she had too much to do, but I could. Those were…strange days. I spent half my time by his bedside and half with you, making sure you and Anakin were okay.”

“I remember. I didn’t realise how seriously hurt your friend was at the time, though. I don’t think I met him until just before the Clone Wars started.” 

“Padmé didn’t make a fuss,” Sabé said, shrugging. “She’s too professional to betray her feelings like that. She was worried, though. I think she felt bad for being so preoccupied when Anakin tried to see her.”

At the mention of his former Padawan, Obi-Wan’s brow creased in a slight frown. He’d never approved of Anakin’s attachment to Padmé. Sabé hadn’t yet decided how she was going to finish the story. Mentioning Anakin seemed unavoidable. 

“Gregar didn’t wake up until about five days after the celebration parade, after you and the other Jedi had left,” she went on. “His healing progress was slow, he was off duty for a long time. Padmé and I visited him when we could, but he spent more time alone than we liked. While he’d been unconscious, we discovered that his parents had been killed during the invasion, so we had to break the news to him when he woke up.” She shuddered, recalling the raw anguish on her friend’s injured face.

“That can’t have been easy for him,” Obi-Wan sympathised. “Or helped his road to recovery.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, grimacing as she remembered, “it was a tough time for him, but he got through it. He used to paint in his spare time, so he spent a lot of his recuperation learning a slightly different way of seeing. But even with that distraction, he was so glad when he could be discharged from the medical bay. Eventually, after some extra training, he was put back on active duty, after he’d proved that losing an eye hadn’t affected his ability to serve.” 

As Sabé talked, they retreated to the comfortable chairs in the lounge area of their open-plan living space, each settling in their chosen favourite seats. Sabé still had half a glass of wine left, and she swirled it thoughtfully around the glass as she spoke. 

"Over time, I watched Padmé and Gregar's relationship slowly change. Padmé's reign kept us all busy, but after the Trade Federation invasion everything else seemed quiet by comparison."

"I can see why it would," Obi-Wan commented. 

"Yes, we were lucky not to have to face anything like that again," Sabé said, tucking her legs up underneath her as she searched for a comfortable position. "As time passed, Gregar remained much the same as ever: loyal, constant, thoughtful...quietly disappointed when Padmé dated someone else. Although he didn't have to worry, it was a short-lived fling that she ended. Even though she didn't appear to return his feelings, his never changed. But eventually she did start to notice what he felt for her, probably around the same time that she realised she felt something too. That was about...oh...five years after they met! Talk about a slow burn." 

Obi-Wan smiled, propping one foot up on the table in front of him. "I suppose she wanted to be sure." 

"Yes," Sabé said with a nod. "And even then she didn't act on it. Somehow, without actually talking about it, they both agreed that nothing would happen between them while Padmé was Queen." Seeing his sceptical expression, she added, "That's how it seemed from my point of view, anyway. Maybe they had a few conversations I wasn't aware of. Which is fine. It would be weird if I was always there." 

"I didn't realise that stalking was one of your many talents," he said, poker-faced. 

"You think you're funny," Sabé muttered. 

He stared at her blankly. "Am I not?" 

She slanted an eyebrow at him until his facade cracked and he laughed. 

"I'm sorry," he said, his smile rendering it completely insincere. "Carry on."

"Thank you," Sabé intoned with placid sarcasm. "As it happens, I don't have much to tell from that point until the end of Padmé's reign. She and Gregar grew closer, but always within the boundaries of professionalism. Still, I got the sense that they were really biding time, they'd...sort of made an agreement that they were waiting out her terms as monarch. I don't know if it was ever anything as literal as that, but that's how it was." 

“And when her term was over?” 

Sabé smiled widely as she recalled that day. “Hmm. Well. That was a busy time. There were all sorts of preparations to make for Queen Jamillia’s arrival at the palace, we were all running around like maniacs for days, but those two…they were just…serene. It was actually quite annoying.” 

Obi-Wan let out a chuckle, setting his empty glass on the table. 

“It had been decided that Padmé would still need protection after she stepped down from the throne, being a public figure for so long. Panaka elected to transfer two bodyguards to her service, so naturally Gregar and I volunteered. We were all to go away to stay in the Lake Country. Padmé said she wanted a complete change.”

“Understandable.”

“Yes. Her last day in office passed, and then it was the handover ceremony and Jamillia’s coronation. After all that, there was a huge party in the evening that we were all required to go to.” She wrinkled her nose. “It was awful, so much small talk I thought my head was going to explode. Padmé and I wore very similar dresses, so as the wine flowed, we sort of became merged in people’s minds. So when she slipped away before the end, nobody really noticed.”

“Very devious,” Obi-Wan observed, in a tone that suggested he’d expected nothing less. 

Sabé inclined her head as she received the praise. “Thank you, _I_ thought so. Anyway, most people were tipsy, to say the least, and there were a lot of late risers the following morning. Gregar spent the night in Padmé’s room and no one was any the wiser. Not that they were doing anything wrong, but they didn’t want to invite comment.” 

Obi-Wan nodded, seeming to understand, but didn’t offer a remark.

“As things turned out,” Sabé went on, becoming sombre, “that one night was all they had. The very next day, Queen Jamillia called Padmé into a meeting and asked her to serve as senator. You know what Padmé’s like. It wasn’t in her to refuse, regardless of what it meant for her own happiness. It would be improper for a senator as high ranking as she is to be romantically involved with a soldier. Even if she was willing to break the rules, Gregar was not. He’s an honourable man, he didn’t want there to be any hint of impropriety surrounding Padmé. I know it seems…outdated, but that’s how things are on Naboo. Rank is considered important”

“It’s not as outdated as you think,” Obi-Wan told her. “It’s the same on many worlds, I’ve seen it first-hand.” 

Sabé pursed her lips pensively, her thoughts skipping ahead to her quarrel with Padmé. She wasn’t looking forward to explaining that part. 

“I don’t know what happened when Gregar found out, I wasn’t there, but I doubt it was a pleasant conversation. Although in the end, he agreed to be her Chief of Security.”

“That can’t have been easy for him.”

“No, it hasn’t been,” Sabé verified. “But he says he wants to be able to keep her safe. It’s worth any personal pain. I just…feel so bad for him. For them both.”

“Surely Padmé is well established in her position now,” Obi-Wan put in. “Nobody would think badly of her for being with someone who makes her happy, regardless of social rank.”

Sabé glanced down at the wine glass in her hand as she wondered what to say next. “Ah. It’s, uh, it’s not that simple, I’m afraid. I’ll get to that.”

“Okay.”

“When I heard what had happened, I was fuming. I knew how much Padmé had been looking forward to getting away from public life and thinking of herself for once. And, of course, I knew how long Gregar had waited for her. I confronted Padmé about it. We had a huge argument. It wasn’t my best reaction ever, I’m not proud of it. But…she eventually offered me a position as handmaiden. I declined. That was the last time I spoke to her for…oh, I’m not sure how long. A long time, anyway.” She sighed, draining the last of her wine and setting the glass aside. “Over time we rebuilt our friendship, but it’s only been back where it was in recent months.”

“So they are still separated by their rank? Even now, after all this time?”

“They…are,” Sabé confirmed, hesitating over the words. “I know there are still feelings there on both sides, but…there’s another complication now.”

Something in her tone caused a wary shadow to pass over Obi-Wan’s face. “Anakin,” he stated perceptively. 

Still unsure how much she should really say, Sabé nodded. “Yes.” 

“I’ve always known he had an attachment to Padmé. I suppose I was hoping he’d grow out of it.”

“I…I can’t really say…” she began. 

“Don’t,” Obi-Wan cut in, holding up a hand. “I have a feeling it’s safer I not know.” 

Sabé opened her mouth to speak, then reconsidered what she was going to say. "Perhaps," she muttered at length. 

"Does..." he began, his demeanour betraying his unease at the topic, "...does Padmé...return any feelings Anakin may have for her?"

"She loves him, I'm sure, but I don't think it's..." _In the way he wants_ , she was going to say. But that would reveal too much. "...you know," she went on awkwardly, "...in _that_ way. He's someone she cares about deeply." 

"Hmm," Obi-Wan murmured, raising a hand to his chin. 

"But...you know what Anakin can be like. If Padmé and Gregar did decide to pursue their feelings...I can't see him reacting well to that." 

"No," he agreed at once, a hint of concern seeping into his voice. "I've never been blind to his faults, but I've tried to help him overcome them. Or rather, to teach him what he needs to know in order to work through them on his own." He pressed a hand to his closed eyes, looking weary and altogether un-Jedi-like. "Sometimes I wonder how successful I've been. Whether I could have tried harder, been a better teacher." 

Surprised at his sudden candidness, Sabé offered gently, "Surely the Council had their reasons for knighting him. They wouldn't have done that unless they thought he was ready." 

"That's true," he conceded, "but we never stop learning, even after we become Knights." Shaking himself out of his momentary wistfulness, he added, "But anyway...I agree with you, he would not react well to news of Padmé and Gregar. And that worries me, frankly." 

Finding she could not tell any more of her story without revealing the secret of Padmé and Anakin's marriage, Sabé slipped into a contemplative silence. She was fairly confident that Obi-Wan had the gist of it anyway, however much he claimed not to know. 

"So what will happen now?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I don't know. I wish I had an easy answer. I don't like seeing either of them in pain." 

"These things have a way of sorting themselves out." 

"Yes," she said, meeting his gaze, "but it's the fallout from that that worries me." 

He made a quiet sound of agreement, frowning at the thought. 

Sabé sighed and sat up straighter. "But you asked for the story, that's it. So far, at least." 

"Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome," she said with a nod. Shifting forward to stand up, she went on, "I think I'll try and meditate a little before bed. All this reminiscing is cluttering my mind." 

He smiled, but she didn't think his heart was in it. "Fair enough. I'll see you in the morning." 

"Good night." 

***

"I'm not sure I enjoy being summoned without knowing the reason," Obi-Wan said, as the turbolift took them up towards the Jedi Council chamber the following morning. 

"No," Sabé agreed, her folded arms accompanying her slight frown. "It reminds me too much of school."

"Oh? I'm afraid I missed out on that particular experience."

"Being called in to see the head teacher, not knowing if you'd done something wrong or if they had some terrible news to give you." She shook her head vehemently. "I thought growing up meant leaving that feeling behind! Apparently not." 

They fell silent as the lift reached its destination. When the doors slid aside, they exited together, their calm gait keeping their mutual uncertainty hidden. Sabé dropped her arms to her sides and obediently stood in the centre of the room with Obi-Wan. 

“Sorry to summon you both so early in the day,” Ki-Adi-Mundi greeted them. 

“That’s all right, Master,” Obi-Wan assured him. “What’s the problem?”

"An interesting situation has arisen, Obi-Wan," Yoda said, his hands clasped under his chin. "Your attention it needs."

Obi-Wan's voice was quiet in its reply. “ _My_ attention?” 

“Yes. Require you to go off-planet, it will.” 

"Masters, with respect, I already have an assignment. Is it wise for me to be leaving Coruscant without the attacks on the Order of Sanctuary dealt with?"

"Ideally, no," Mace Windu put in with customary bluntness, "but this is an unusual case that we think you should be involved in, if Lady Sabé has no objections."

Sabé tried not to look too startled that the Jedi Council was taking her opinion into consideration. "I have no doubts that you have my best interests covered, Master Windu," she said diplomatically. "Obi-Wan's first duty should be to the Jedi, not to me." 

It seemed that this was what they were expecting her to say, but Obi-Wan shot her a swift, unreadable look. She didn't have time to puzzle over it in any depth, however, as the discussion moved rapidly on. 

"You remember your mission to Mandalore when you were a Padawan," Mace Windu said, no hint of a question in his business-like tone. 

"Of course," Obi-Wan answered stoically, his demeanour betraying nothing of what Sabé felt sure must be going through his mind. 

"We've been alerted to some holo footage that places Duchess Satine Kryze under suspicion of secret allegiance with the Separatists."

"May I ask what this footage shows?" 

"A warrior in Mandalorian armour attacking a Republic ship," Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke up. 

"Suggested it has been," added Yoda, "that the duchess is raising an army to aid the Separatists."

"Impossible," Obi-Wan said quickly. "That's extremely unlikely," he amended. "The duchess is a staunch pacifist. She suffers ongoing criticism from Mandalorians with more traditional values because of her peaceful views. I very much doubt that she would choose to do anything that would threaten Mandalore's neutrality." 

"Nevertheless, we are obligated to investigate the duchess," Mace Windu said. "If she is not behind the attack, we must discover who is. Mandalore may be a neutral system, but the attack was on a Republic vessel, and we can't ignore that." 

"A delicate situation this is," Yoda pointed out. "Your shared history with the duchess will be an advantage. Feel threatened she must not, unless proved it is that she is working with the Separatists."

"Has the duchess specifically requested my presence?" Obi-Wan asked. 

"No," said Ki-Adi-Mundi. "She objects to this investigation."

Sabé saw a brief flicker across Obi-Wan's face, as if he was not remotely surprised by the news. 

"And what of Lady Sabé's safety while I'm gone?" he said. 

"I can stay with Padmé," she put in before the Council could speak. "I'm sure I'll be fine there." 

"Accompany you, Lady Sabé will," Yoda told them calmly. "That way, abandon your assignment, you will not."

Sabé felt a spark of annoyance that they had already decided she was going, but she supposed that that was how Obi-Wan felt all the time, always being at the beck and call of the elders. She shot a glance his way, interested to see what he thought of the decision. 

He simply nodded, his expression still mostly unreadable. 

She tried to keep the frown from her face, speaking up. "Masters, I'm not sure that's a good idea. Our marriage isn't widely known, especially offworld. What reason would we give for my presence there? I work for a member of the Senate, couldn't that raise issues that would complicate Obi-Wan's mission?" 

"Obi-Wan will simply explain the truth: that you are under his protection," Mace Windu said. 

Realising that there was no way she was going to avoid an unanticipated trip to Mandalore, Sabé reluctantly nodded. She knew that as a neutral party she couldn't let herself get too involved in Obi-Wan's mission, and she fully expected to be bored. However, it wouldn't be any different from the countless number of meetings and events she'd accompanied the Queen to. The fact that they would be meeting Duchess Satine added a certain tenseness to the proceedings, and Sabé wasn't sure that she wanted to be involved, especially now that she was so aware of her growing feelings for Obi-Wan.

"You leave tomorrow," Yoda finished, all but dismissing them. "Here is a copy of the security footage. Proof, the duchess may want." 

Obi-Wan stepped forward to take the small holo projector from him, slipping it into his pocket. They exited the chamber, each keeping their silence until they were safely in the main turbolift. 

"This is going to be beyond awkward," Sabé exclaimed. "How are we going to explain who I am?" 

She wasn't talking about her ties to the Senate this time, and he seemed to pick up on that.

"You said yourself our marriage isn't known offworld. We won't have to explain." 

"You...want to... _not_ tell your ex that you're now married to me?" Sabé clarified, needing to make sure that she was understanding him right. 

He fixed her with a frown. "What good would it do to tell her? What we had was over years ago, there's no sense in dragging it all up again, especially considering that the mission isn't even related to my first visit to Mandalore."

Sabé pressed her lips together tightly, disagreeing. 

"Why," he went on, "what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that this whole thing is a monumentally bad idea." 

Obi-Wan didn't seem to share her cynicism. "It will be fine," he said, with such nonchalance that Sabé reached out and caught his sleeve. 

"Look...maybe I'm overstepping my boundaries here, but... _you_ may be fine with all of this, but think about _her_. She deserves to know about us. If you keep it from her it will just seem like we have something to hide. When she finds out - which she _will_ \- it will look worse that you didn't tell her." 

He took in her words with a pensive look, but Sabé could already tell that she hadn’t quite convinced him. 

“Let’s see how things go,” he stated. 

Edgy and annoyed, Sabé grudgingly nodded, accepting the conversation-stopper for what it was. 

_Gods help me, I don’t want to meet her,_ she thought. _What if she still loves him? She’s going to hate me._

She shot a stealthy glance at Obi-Wan, who appeared to be passively immersed in his own reflections. 

_He can’t be as calm as he looks,_ she decided. _This is going to be interesting, if nothing else._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: That's the end of the more Padmé-centric chapters for now. I liked writing this one. The bulk of it is Sabé telling her story, but it also gave me a chance to show how well she and Obi-Wan work together, even when they're being domestic, plus add some bulk to their TPM back story. 
> 
> Next chapter: Clone Wars territory! Duchess Satine!
> 
> Since there's no way I'll get another update out before the end of the year (most likely), let me take this opportunity to wish everyone happy holidays, whether you celebrate something or just enjoy the time off. Have a fun, relaxing time :)


	14. A Tense Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Welcome to the first update of 2019. Here's Duchess Satine. Plot and dialogue you recognise come from the Clone Wars series, which I do not own.

**Chapter Fourteen – A Tense Reunion.**

 

The following day after their short meeting with the Jedi Council, Obi-Wan piloted them to Mandalore. Sabé was feeling rather on edge, a mixed whirlwind of thoughts spinning in her head. One by one, she tried to confront them head-on. She was afraid that she would be jealous. She didn't want to be, she knew it would be petty, but she feared it all the same. She worried that she wouldn't like the duchess. She worried that she _would_ and Obi-Wan would feel awkward. She wondered what the outcome of their discussion the previous day would be, when Satine inevitably found out about their marriage. Sabé couldn't see any scenario where that turned out well, and she didn't think it was just cynicism. 

Obi-Wan's outward demeanour had barely changed, other than that he was being a little quieter than usual. She wondered if he was still in love with the duchess, despite the years that had passed and his dedication to his duty. It seemed an impertinent question to ask, so she continued guessing. Maintaining loyalty to the Jedi Order didn't necessarily mean quashing his feelings, if it was even possible. 

Their ship broke the atmosphere, skimming smoothly above a vast, flat plain of sun-bleached white sand. In the distance ahead, the shining city of Sundari sat within a protective bubble. As they drew closer, Sabé saw that the city shone because it was made almost exclusively of alacrete and transparisteel. 

They were granted permission to land at the docks on the outskirts of the city, and Obi-Wan set the ship down with practiced ease. Outside, a skiff awaited them, a guard in smart, elaborate armour standing patiently by. They emerged from the ship, Sabé struggling to maintain her dignity in the more casual of her formal dresses. The muted crimson gown had practical tight sleeves, but its flowing skirt was not made for travel in small ships with cockpits that needed to be climbed in and out of. Since she wouldn’t have time to change before meeting the duchess, a flightsuit had been out of the question.

"The duchess awaits you, General Kenobi," the guard greeted them stoically when they approached. 

"Far be it for me to keep the duchess waiting," Obi-Wan said wryly, gesturing Sabé aboard. 

She accepted his hand as she stepped up, gripping onto the skiff's safety railing as they set off. Obi-Wan stood upright, arms folded, managing to keep his balance without help, despite the breeze that whipped his robe out behind him. The guard flew them through a nearby tunnel and out into the midst of the city. Sabé took in the sights around her, layer upon layer of glittering transparisteel buildings. There were very few patches of natural beauty, but unlike Coruscant, she did not find it so jarring. Obi-Wan wore a slight smile whenever she looked his way, seemingly amused by her sight-seeing. 

The journey to the palace was not long. Soon enough they were slowing, approaching a huge, impressive building much in the same style as all the others, but much larger in scale. The guard dropped them off outside the tall front doors and Sabé squared her shoulders before following Obi-Wan inside. 

Directed by another silent guard, they made their way down a wide corridor leading off from the entrance, their footsteps echoing on the white marble floor. Eventually they reached the main hall, a vast, high-ceilinged room paned with huge transparisteel windows. It was bathed in natural light, the sun glinting off the stained glass artwork on the walls. At the far end stood a throne on a dais, currently as vacant as the rest of the room. 

Sabé exchanged a puzzled glance with Obi-Wan as they ventured into the empty space. Then a man appeared from one of the side corridors, dressed in a formal suit of pale fabric. 

"General Kenobi," he greeted, approaching them. He was an older man, tall and thin, with striking lavender eyes. 

“Thank you for meeting with me, Prime Minister Almec,” Obi-Wan said warmly, shaking the man's hand. "This is Lady Sabé. She is currently under my protection and, as such, had to accompany me here. She plays no part in my investigation." 

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Almec nodded, courteous but lacking any real interest in her presence there. 

Sabé bowed, saying nothing. 

“I welcome you as a servant of the people," Almec said to Obi-Wan, "but I’m troubled by the false rumours that brought you here. Mandalore would never turn against the Republic. The Duchess Satine values peace more than her own life.” 

“Oh, I’m aware of the duchess’s views," Obi-Wan assured him. 

Almec fixed him with a sharp look. “Master Kenobi, Mandalore’s violent past is behind us. All of our warriors were exiled to our moon, Concordia. They died out years ago.”

Obi-Wan looked sceptical, but maintained his polite manner. “Are you certain? I recently encountered a man who wore Mandalorian armour: Jango Fett.” 

“Jango Fett was a common bounty hunter," Almec blustered, affronted. "How he acquired that armour is beyond me.” 

“Well, Master Kenobi," a clear, feminine voice rang out, turning all heads. "My shining Jedi Knight to the rescue once again.” Her tone was faintly mocking. 

The duchess strode into the room, climbing the steps to the throne and taking her seat with poise. The glass artwork behind the throne lit up, casting a warm aura of soft light around her. Sabé glanced at her with interest, curious about the woman she'd heard so much about, the woman part of her could not help inwardly referring to as her rival. As they walked closer, she saw a slim, elegant woman dressed in a flowing blue and green gown. Her features were porcelain-fair and aristocratic, her pale cerulean eyes regarding them both sharply. Her hair was a light golden blonde, cut short, almost entirely hidden by her elaborate headdress. She did not, fortunately, bear much resemblance to the rather unflattering, stylised portrait that dominated one wall of the throne room. 

Sabé had never been negative about her own appearance, but faced with the duchess's ethereal beauty and obvious grace, she suddenly felt strangely homespun by comparison. Her hair, once neatly braided, was most likely windswept from the skiff ride, and her dress was cinched by a practical belt with her blaster at her hip. 

_You're a warrior_ , she told herself firmly, _she's a dignitary._

“After all these years, you’re even more beautiful than ever," Obi-Wan said graciously. 

It was the kind of over-the-top, gushing compliment that meeting dignitaries often exchanged, but Sabé couldn’t help but wonder how much truth lay behind it. She fought hard not to fidget, uncomfortable in the situation. 

“Kind words from a man who accuses me of treachery,” the duchess all but snapped, her demeanour cold and self-protective. 

“I would never accuse you of personal wrongdoing, Duchess," Obi-Wan put in levelly. "However, a Separatist saboteur attacked one of our Republic cruisers. A Mandalorian saboteur.” He withdrew a holo projector from a pocket in his robe, playing the security footage that Master Yoda had given him. 

They all watched the blue-tinted figure on the hologram shoot its blaster at an unseen target, before rolling and coming to a standstill as Obi-Wan paused the recording. The saboteur’s armour was most definitely Mandalorian, or, at least, a very good imitation. 

Sabé watched the duchess’s face, seeing the anger and open hostility there, wondering if she was shocked, or simply furious that her scheme had been discovered. For Obi-Wan’s sake, she hoped it was the former. 

“You must be mistaken,” Prime Minister Almec stuttered. “No Mandalorian would engage in such violence. Not anymore. Where is this prisoner now?”

Obi-Wan pocketed the holo projector, his tone growing sombre. “He took his own life rather than submit to questioning. I know these commandos fought in many wars, often against the Jedi.” 

“Every one of my people is as trustworthy as I am,” the duchess burst out fervently. 

Sabé felt a flicker of sympathy as she saw everyone react to the rash statement. 

One of her aides smiled patronisingly, his expression apologetic. “I know we sound defensive, but…”

“Clearly,” the duchess interrupted, “your investigation was ordered because the Senate is eager to interfere in our affairs.” 

Sabé inwardly flinched, hoping that her presence as a Republic senator’s handmaiden wasn’t going to make the situation any more problematic. 

“My investigation was ordered by the Jedi Council,” Obi-Wan told her, the essence of calm. He was clearly used to her emotional outbursts. 

The duchess lost some of her sharpness. “I stand corrected,” she admitted. For the first time, she acknowledged Sabé, turning her gaze to her in mild curiosity. “Who have you brought with you?” 

“Sabé, M’lady,” Sabé said politely, dipping a quick, formal curtsey. 

The duchess nodded to her, but looked at her blaster with a brief expression of distaste that she quickly hid. 

“Lady Sabé is currently under my protection following an attempt on her life,” Obi-Wan explained, the simple version of what was essentially the truth. “She is a neutral party here.” 

At his words, the duchess looked slightly puzzled, as if wondering why he’d mentioned Sabé’s neutrality. 

“I’m handmaiden to Senator Amidala of Naboo,” she explained. 

“I’m familiar with Senator Amidala’s work,” the duchess said. “I admire her principles, if not her allegiance to the Republic.” If she was curious about why a mere handmaiden needed the protection of the Jedi, she was too polite to show it. “Very well. Perhaps you’d both like to join me on a walk through the city.” It was not a question. 

The duchess extended her hand, her face expectant. After a moment’s hesitation, Obi-Wan stepped forward and took it, guiding her down the steps of the dais. The three of them crossed the hall to the exit, two silent guards trailing unobtrusively behind. 

They stepped out into the warm yet fresh air, the duchess leading the way across the transparisteel floors of the raised walkways. For the first few minutes, a heavy silence hung. Sabé found it painfully awkward, and she scrambled for something to say that would not be inappropriate for a neutral party. 

“This is a beautiful city, Duchess,” she spoke up eventually.

Obi-Wan shot her a raised eyebrow. She was not one for small talk, as he was well aware. No doubt he was wondering why she was making the effort now. 

“Thank you,” the duchess replied. “Mandalore’s architects considered beauty almost as highly as practicality, often finding new solutions to solve problems rather than compromise on the look of a building. In an area as barren as this, we must create our own beauty.”

“Naboo’s architects took a similar approach, but they were more willing to sacrifice practicality for art. Yours seem to have hit the balance much better.” 

Satine sent her an appreciative look. “It’s all too easy to take our homeworlds for granted. It’s good to see them through another’s eyes.” 

“It’s all changed a great deal,” Obi-Wan commented, glancing around. 

“A lot can happen in seventeen years,” the duchess said blankly. 

“Yes,” he agreed softly. 

Sabé glanced at the floor, feeling ill at ease again, ardently wishing she hadn’t come. As nice as it was to leave Coruscant for a while, she didn’t think it was worth it. Not with so much unspoken between them all. Sending Obi-Wan a brief look, she quickened her pace a little, leaving the other two behind. She could still hear their conversation, but it was easier to pretend otherwise than when she was right beside them. 

“It’s…so good to see you again, Obi-Wan,” the duchess said, her tone the gentlest Sabé had heard it so far. “Despite the circumstances.” 

“Your peaceful ways have paid off,” Obi-Wan remarked. To Sabé, he still seemed a little on edge himself.

_Not as calm as he appears. I thought as much._

“Mandalore has prospered since the last time I was here.” 

“Not everyone on Mandalore believes that our commitment to peace is a sign of progress,” Satine told him jadedly. “There is a group that calls itself Death Watch. I imagine these are the renegades you’re looking for.”

_Well that was quick_ , Sabé thought, at the same time as she was thinking, _She doesn’t trust me enough to speak of this while I’m present._

She knew she shouldn’t be surprised, but working for Padmé and the Queen, she’d gotten used to being trusted implicitly.

“They idolise violence and the warrior ways of the past,” the duchess was explaining. “There are those among us, certain officials, who are working to root out these criminals. It has been an ongoing investigation.” 

“How widespread is this Death Watch movement?” Obi-Wan asked.

“It’s hardly a movement,” Satine said, a little defensively. “It’s a small group of hooligans who choose to vandalise public places, nothing more. We shall soon have them in custody. We have tracked them down to our moon, Concordia.” 

Obi-Wan did not sound convinced. “I hope you’re right, Duchess.” 

Privately, Sabé agreed with him. Sabotaging a Republic cruiser was no easy task, not with the clone army guarding it. She was trying hard not to make snap judgements, especially considering what she knew she and Satine had in common, but to her, the duchess sounded rather naïve. Albeit with the best of intentions. Mandalore’s neutrality was understandable, but it seemed it had kept them from learning a few hard truths about the galaxy’s current state of affairs. 

“So do I,” the duchess murmured. 

There was silence for a while, the sounds of the city surrounding them. Sabé followed the path the walkway led her on, not having a clue where she was going, but enjoying the scenery. She could hear her companions’ footsteps behind her. Shortly, their conversation started up again and they traded friendly arguments. Sabé tuned them out for a while, lost in her own thoughts. When she started listening again, they were still bickering. 

“A peacekeeper belongs on the frontlines of conflict,” Obi-Wan was saying. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to do his job.” 

“The work of a peacekeeper is to make sure that conflict does not arise,” Satine argued, sounding amused. 

“Yes, a noble description, but not a realistic one.”

“Is reality what makes a Jedi abandon his ideals?” Satine asked.

Sabé sensed there was more to her question than there appeared. She fought the urge to turn around and tell them they were both right. 

“Or,” the duchess went on, “is it simply a response to political convenience?” 

Whatever Obi-Wan was going to say in reply was cut short by the monument ahead exploding. Much closer than the others, Sabé found herself flung backwards by the blast, rolling to a rough stop on the ground, her ears ringing, her elbow scraped, but otherwise unhurt. She saw that Obi-Wan and the duchess had both stayed on their feet. Obi-Wan assessed Satine’s condition in a glance, seeing that all was well. Then he was running towards Sabé.

“Are you all right?” he asked, dropping to one knee to help her up. 

A little dazed, she accepted his help. “Yes, I’m not hurt.” 

The duchess ran forward, crouching down beside one of the many wounded people. With a concerned look at Sabé, who waved him away, Obi-Wan followed her. 

Sabé spotted a middle-aged man in difficulty near to the blast point and she hurried over, dropping to her knees as she reached him. A shard of transparisteel had pierced his side, the blood staining his tunic. His face contorted in pain, sweat beading his forehead. 

“Get it out, get it out!” he cried at her, eyes wide with fear. 

“If I do that you’ll bleed out,” she told him, gripping his hand tightly. 

“Aren’t I already doing that?” he snapped. “Please!” 

She peeled back his sodden shirt to get a closer look. The blood flow was substantial. 

“The wound needs pressure on it,” she said aloud. “So I do need to get the shard out first. It’s going to hurt.”

“It already hurts,” he whimpered. 

“Okay then,” Sabé said with a grimace. “On three, ready?”

The man managed a shaky nod.

“One.” She pulled the shard out. 

The man gave a yell, which she ignored. She tore a strip off his shirt and bunched it into a pad, quickly pressing it hard to the wound. The blood flow slowed immediately. 

“You lied,” the man accused her weakly. 

“Yup,” she admitted with a grin, trying to get him to smile. 

It seemed to work to some extent, although he was still in a lot of pain. 

“Lie still,” she ordered. “The medics will be here soon.” 

“Hooligans couldn’t have arranged an attack on this scale,” she heard Obi-Wan say. 

“Then this must be the work of an offworlder,” the duchess shot back icily. 

Obi-Wan’s tone was stern. “Are you sure of that?” 

Turning, Sabé followed his gaze. Satine did likewise. At the centre of the blast zone, an orange-coloured hologram rotated, showing a three-pronged symbol that Sabé was not familiar with. 

“The sign of the Death Watch,” the duchess breathed, sounding horrified. 

Obi-Wan crouched to her eye level, saying in a gentle but firm voice, “This goes far beyond vandalism. This is a political statement against your government, and against you.”

An official cut through them to help up the wounded man Satine had been comforting. 

“You’re not safe here,” Obi-Wan went on. “I’m taking you back to the palace.” 

Offering her a hand, he helped her to her feet. The duchess stared at him for a long moment. 

Looking away from the scene, Sabé glanced down at her patient. He was pale and clammy, eyes a little more glazed than she would like. 

“Hey,” she said, giving him a gentle shake. “Stay with me.” 

He did not reply, his eyelids fluttering shut. Sabé whipped her head round, yelling, “I need a medic here!” 

Obi-Wan was at her side in seconds, the duchess following in his wake. 

“They’re coming now,” Satine told her, glancing around to see. 

“Sabé, you’ve done everything you can,” Obi-Wan put in, gripping her shoulder. 

Satine gestured the medical team towards them and Sabé let go of her makeshift gauze pad, letting one of the professionals take over. Obi-Wan pulled her up, gripping her shoulders, her bloodstained hands hanging by her sides as she resisted the urge to wipe them on her skirt. She only had one dress with her. 

“Your quick actions probably saved his life,” he said gently. 

“I hope so.” 

“Come on, you can clean up at the palace.” 

Sabé nodded, and the three of them turned away from the scene. A crowd of onlookers had gathered nearby, and Obi-Wan stepped forward to address them. 

“I want to interview everyone here,” he said, voice ringing with authority. “Nobody leaves this scene.” 

One man decided to ignore him, darting away into the crowd amid gasps of surprise. Obi-Wan spun to look, the two women reacting a beat slower. 

“You there!” he shouted, before taking off after him. 

Sabé and the duchess watched him go, both too stunned to move. Then Sabé muttered, “Oh, for pity’s sake,” and darted after them, Satine at her heels.

They managed to follow, just catching sight of the hem of Obi-Wan’s robe as he turned corners. Their pursuit led them down a set of stairs, where they emerged onto a wide balcony. There had clearly been a brief scuffle. The fugitive was sprawled face down on the ground, Obi-Wan standing not far away. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he was saying. He spotted their arrival and threw out a hand. “Stay back!” 

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, the man hopped up on the railing, yelling something in an unfamiliar dialect, arms spread wide. Then he let himself fall.

Sabé heard the sickening blow of his impact, followed by screams from the people walking below. She and Satine rushed to the edge, where Obi-Wan had already moved. Satine let out a soft gasp, raising her hands to her face as she looked down. Without a word, she spun on her heel and headed back the way they’d come. 

Sabé and Obi-Wan exchanged a grim glance, then followed her. They hurried down the stairs and out the door below. Satine approached the dying man, who reached out to her and spoke in a weak voice. The transparisteel floor had cracked beneath him, giving him a strange aura of jagged, criss-crossing lines. 

“What is he saying?” Obi-Wan asked her. 

The duchess ignored him, bending closer to hear the man’s rasps. In a gentle voice, she spoke back to him in the same language. The fugitive studied her face for a moment, then he fell backwards, eyes drifting shut. 

“He was speaking in the dialect they use on Concordia, our moon,” Satine explained, the slump of her shoulders showing her weariness. 

“I should like to visit this moon of yours,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully, and not without sensitivity. “Perhaps I could accompany the body.” 

“The Concordian moon is a province with its own governor,” Satine sighed, getting to her feet. “You’ll need me to escort you.” 

Obi-Wan held up a hand. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Actually, it will,” she countered evenly. “You won’t make much progress without me there, especially since you’ve just been involved with the death of a Concordian.”

“I didn’t kill him,” he reminded her delicately. 

The duchess fixed him with a stern look, one that promised that she was not truly angry with him. “I know. That’s why I’m still talking to you.” She breezed past him, heading for the building they’d rushed through to get there. 

Sabé raised her eyebrows in surprise and faint amusement at the duchess’s tone. Obi-Wan caught her gaze and shook his head, looking a touch bewildered. They kept pace together as they walked after Satine. 

“Are you all right?” Obi-Wan asked, sending her a sidelong glance. “I’m sorry you’ve been on your own, I…sort of got caught up.”

“I noticed,” she replied, making a valiant effort not to feel a little bitter. “I’m okay, truly. Just bruised. And…of course the duchess isn’t going to want to talk about anything that matters with me standing there. She has no reason to trust me, I get that.” 

“She can take my word for it,” he said, drawing a smile from Sabé. “But I don’t think that will be a problem, not after the way you tended to one of her people.” 

“I just did what anyone with the same knowledge would do.”

“Even still. It was a kindness she won’t forget.” 

The duchess was waiting for them at the top of the stairs, hands neatly clasped. “We’ll go back to the palace to clean up,” she said as they approached, “then I’ll accompany you to Concordia. I assume you want to go as soon as possible.” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “We don’t want any repeats of what happened today.”

“With that, I whole-heartedly agree.” 

Back at the palace, Sabé was shown into a guest room where she could visit the fresher and scrub the blood from her hands. Her bag had been taken from their ship and placed on the bed, much to her relief. Lying the formal dress aside, she donned a tight jumpsuit of tawny-coloured fabric, strapping her gun belt around her waist. She tugged on black boots and a maroon vest that made her think of the old handmaiden battle dresses from when Padmé was Queen. She quickly brushed and re-braided her hair, then joined Obi-Wan in the corridor. They headed back to the throne room, where they were to wait for the duchess. 

“How are you?” Sabé asked quietly, mindful of the way sound echoed in the huge room. 

He glanced at her, surprised. “I’m fine, why?” 

She slanted an eyebrow at him. “You know why,” she said, lowering her voice even more. “You think I forgot that conversation we had in the Jedi Temple cafeteria?” 

“Ah. Right.” 

“Yes, right.” 

“I’m fine,” he repeated. “Really. I’m just…a little on edge.”

Hearing that sort of admission from him was rare, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a strong man, Obi-Wan. Stronger than anyone else I know. You always do the right thing.” 

“So far,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Sometimes I have a capacity to…bend the rules. As I’m sure you remember.” 

By silent agreement, they never spoke of the night of their marriage. They were both aware that it was something that probably shouldn’t have happened. 

Sabé felt her cheeks redden a touch as she nodded, and she dropped her hand. “Oh, I remember,” she said softly. 

Since she had become aware of her feelings for him, that night had been an almost-constant torture, cruelly reminding her of the intimacy they had shared that she would never feel again. Their closeness had been brief, yet she missed it desperately. 

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he studied her, and she wondered if she’d revealed too much in her tone of voice. She’d been keeping her feelings guarded, unwilling to complicate their arrangement. 

A clatter of footsteps alerted them to Duchess Satine’s presence, and they turned to greet her. She too had decided to dress more practically, wearing a feminine ensemble in shades of pink, her hair loose and framing her face. 

“Are you ready?” she asked them. 

“Whenever you are, Duchess,” Obi-Wan replied courteously. 

“Let us go to the docks then. I’ve made arrangements for the bomber’s body to travel with us.” She headed for the main door, still elegant even without her fine gown. 

Obi-Wan gestured Sabé forward, and she studied his face for a moment before moving. The faint suspicion that had been there before Satine’s entrance was gone, and she hoped it was gone for good. The last thing she wanted was for him to figure out that she was in love with him. 

***

Padmé was taking a break in the upstairs lounge when Anakin buzzed her comlink and meekly asked if he could see her. Since she was quite literally doing nothing, (something she found extremely difficult to maintain, but that she tried to do at least once a week), she agreed. Within ten minutes he was at her door, being shown in by an enthusiastic See-Threepio. 

As he entered the room, Anakin looked vaguely surprised. 

“I thought Obi-Wan might be here,” he said, as Threepio left them alone. “I was prepared to say I hadn’t seen you for months.” 

“He and Sabé left on a mission to Mandalore,” she clarified, getting to her feet. “Something came up that required Obi-Wan’s particular attention. Since he’s protecting Sabé, she had to go with him.” 

“So…we’re okay here?” 

She frowned at him. “Yes, why? Oof!”

Darting forward, Anakin swept her up in a hug and twirled her around. Unable to keep from laughing, she whacked the back of his shoulder. 

“Let me down!” 

Grinning, he did so, and Padmé sat back down to catch her breath. Anakin joined her, lying down and resting his head in her lap. He was so tall, his feet hung off the end of the sofa. 

“Ani,” she scolded lightly, “Captain Typho and the handmaidens are downstairs.” 

“Anakin,” he corrected. “And so? They know about us.” 

“Yes, but I don’t…” She trailed off. There was no way for her to explain that she didn’t want Gregar stumbling upon them. 

“What?”

“It’s not important.” Idly she combed her fingers through his hair. It had grown a lot since he had become a Knight. “I heard you were back,” she said, changing the subject. “Have you been busy?”

“Ahsoka lost her lightsaber,” he told her. “She thinks I didn’t notice, but I did. She went and got it back on her own. I was just supervising. From afar.” 

“Good for her,” Padmé commented. “But…maybe not so much that she didn’t want to tell you about it.” 

“Eh. I know how she feels. Owning up to losing or breaking a lightsaber can be embarrassing. Especially when, in my case, it was Obi-Wan I was owning up to. He has the worst disapproving look I’ve ever seen.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have done so much to deserve it then,” Padmé teased. 

“Hey!” 

They fell into a peaceful silence. It was almost how it had been in the early days of their relationship: sweet, with no sign of the shadows that haunted Anakin’s good moods. Yet Padmé knew that she had made a mistake that day back at Varykino Lodge. However much she adored him, what she’d said when they’d first met after ten years still held true: he’d always be that little boy she’d known on Tatooine. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, breaking through her observations. “For…you know. Getting angry.”

Padmé said nothing, suddenly afraid that her thoughts were no longer private. 

“It’s just that sometimes…” He sighed heavily, frustrated. “It’s like…the words come pouring out and I can’t stop them. At the time, I don’t _want_ to stop them, but afterward… I can’t lose you, Padmé. That’s what…I’m afraid of.”

“Anakin…”

“I _can’t_ lose you. I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re the best part of me.” 

Trying not to let her dismay show, she rested her hand on the top of his head. “Anakin, you shouldn’t think of me that way.” 

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a whole person, just you. The best part of you is _you_. You can keep the darkness away, not me.”

“Sometimes it’s stronger than I am,” he said quietly. “Sometimes it’s like…it owns me. Like I don’t have a choice.”

“You do have a choice,” she told him firmly. “You shouldn’t… _need_ me.” 

“But I do need you,” he insisted. “We’re meant to be together.” 

Padmé swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “Please don’t say that, Anakin. I don’t feel like…” She halted, then tried again. “I can’t take the pressure of…being needed in that way.” 

He stared up at her, clearly stumped by her words. 

_He has no idea why I feel this way_ , she realised. _He doesn’t understand it at all._

“It’s…just because I’m afraid,” he said eventually. “Some of the dreams I have… I lose you. I’ll do anything to keep them from coming true.” 

_That’s what worries me_ , she thought. 

Padmé bit her tongue to keep her expression neutral. Inside, her anxiety raged. 

_He’ll never let me go._


	15. Concordia's Truth

**Chapter Fifteen – Concordia’s Truth.**

 

The moon of Concordia was dominated by rocky mountains and sparsely-growing forests, as different to Mandalore as it was possible to get. As their ship swept in to land in the hangar of the settlement there, Sabé caught sight of several exotic-looking birds sharing their airspace. 

“I thought Concordia was an agricultural settlement,” Obi-Wan spoke up as they descended, his gaze taking in the view. 

“Before the end of our wars, they turned it into a mining base,” Satine explained. “The sheer number of mining facilities here nearly destroyed our forests. They're finally growing back.” 

Obi-Wan sent her a quick smile, seeming to sense that she was pleased by the development. 

Sabé and Obi-Wan joined Satine on the ship’s entry lift. As they were carried down to ground level, Sabé saw that a small group of people awaited them. From their attire, she surmised that it was the governor and his security. 

As they got closer, the governor spoke up, “Duchess Satine, you are most welcome.”

“Thank you, Governor Vizsla,” Satine returned politely. “May I present Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, representing the Jedi Council, and Lady Sabé who is under his protection.” To Obi-Wan, she said, “Governor Vizsla is one of the officials I spoke of. He has been working to find the members of the Death Watch.” 

“I take it you’ve heard the rumours about Satine,” Vizsla said. His voice was rather nasal. It did not suit his square-jawed, classically handsome appearance. “About how she’s supposedly leading Mandalore into an alliance with the Separatists.” 

“My only instructions are to seek the truth,” Obi-Wan reaffirmed. 

Behind them, two guards escorted the casket of the dead suspect. Vizsla watched it go by, looking mildly concerned. “This was the man who bombed the memorial shrine?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “He was apparently part of Death Watch.” 

“A worrisome prospect,” Vizsla muttered. “If you’ll pardon me, General, we must attend to the body.” Throwing a glance back at Satine as invitation to follow, the governor headed after the casket, his guards accompanying him. 

Satine moved to go too, but Obi-Wan caught her arm. She turned to him in surprise. 

“I need a favour from you,” he explained. “Please keep Governor Vizsla occupied at dinner.” 

Satine looked at him warily. “Where are you going?”

“Just for a look around,” he said nonchalantly. “I’d like to see one of these mining facilities for myself.”

“You mean you want to determine if they’re still operational?”

“I hope to determine they’re not,” he countered. “Sabé, you should stay here too. It will look more suspicious if we’re both missing. You’ll be safe here.” 

Sabé frowned. She knew he was right, but she didn’t like the idea of him going off alone. Still, she knew from experience that she would not change his mind. With a resigned sigh, she pulled her com from a pouch on her belt. 

“What’s your frequency?”

“180.35.”

Making the adjustments, Sabé slipped the device in her ear, tugging some hair down to cover it. 

“I shouldn’t get any other calls through while I’m patched into your com,” she told him. 

Obi-Wan nodded. “Good. Duchess, I want you to wear an ear piece too, in case you run into trouble while I’m gone.” 

Satine looked sceptical, but she did as he said. “Remember that you are here under my protection,” she reminded him as he ran for a nearby speeder bike. “Please try not to cause problems where none yet exist.” 

“Think of me as searching for solutions,” he quipped, slipping out of his robe before powering the bike up. 

“Make sure you don’t destroy anything while you search,” Sabé put in. 

“You’re confusing me with Anakin,” Obi-Wan shot back. 

“I have to tell you,” Satine called, “I’m opposed to all of this.” 

“I’d be disappointed if you weren’t,” he said smoothly, gliding away and out the open hangar door. 

The two women exchanged a knowing glance, Satine looking disapproving but unsurprised. 

“I suppose we should join Governor Vizsla before he suspects something,” the duchess mused aloud.

Sabé nodded her agreement, and they left the hangar. Satine knew her way around, leading them to Vizsla’s spacious office. The governor had his back to them, facing the huge window that dominated the far wall. He was typing rapidly on a data pad. 

“Forgive me, Duchess,” he said as they entered. “I’m writing a condolence letter to the dead man’s family and making arrangements for them to retrieve his body.” 

“Of course, Governor. Very proper,” Satine told him. “General Kenobi will join us shortly. He said he needed to…meditate.” 

She glanced over at Sabé, who gave the tiniest of nods. It was a plausible story, but how long it would hold up was open for debate. 

“Well,” said Vizsla, shooting them a glance over his shoulder, “we can wait. Please excuse me for a moment while I finish this.” 

“Of course.” 

While he typed, Sabé took the time to study the abstract artwork on the walls, and to take a look at what she could see of his desk. A lot could be told of a person by what they had on their desk. Vizsla’s looked conspicuously tidy. 

Satine took a seat at the head of the table that sat squarely in the centre of the room. After her rather unprofitable sweep of the office, Sabé joined her, sitting on her left. 

“So, tell me, Lady Sabé,” the duchess began conversationally, “has it hindered you in any way to be at the beck and call of the Jedi Council?” 

Recognising the attempt to break the silence for what it was, Sabé was happy to answer. “Oh yes. My employer was not particularly pleased that I had to disappear today, but she understands the situation. Fortunately, the Council have not seen fit to send Obi-Wan on many missions away from Coruscant, so my life has been relatively undisturbed.” 

“I noticed you call him Obi-Wan and not Master Kenobi,” Satine pointed out.

Sabé detected the barest hint of an edge to her voice, possibly the duchess was not even aware of it herself. 

“We’ve been friends for many years,” she explained. “Perhaps you’ve heard of the Trade Federation invasion of Naboo that happened twelve years ago?”

“I have heard of it, but not in detail,” the duchess said. “Naboo was always a peaceful planet, was it not?”

“Yes. It still is. We only fought then out of necessity. My current employer, Senator Amidala, was Queen of Naboo back then. Naboo is home to both a human and Gungan population, and the two races never saw eye to eye until she forged an alliance between them. That alliance has held ever since.” 

“That is admirable,” Satine said, her expression full of respect. 

“It is,” Sabé agreed. “But in order to get to that point, we had relied on the help of the Jedi: Obi-Wan and his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, whom I believe you were acquainted with.” 

“I was. I was saddened to hear of his death.”

Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the sky was gradually darkening. A light inside the table top was gaining in brightness the darker it got, ensuring that the room was never unilluminated. 

“There,” said Vizsla, interrupting them. He placed his data pad on his desk and turned to face them. “Sorry for my preoccupation.” 

“Not at all, Governor,” Satine said smoothly. “It was right that you should send condolences to the man’s family, despite his actions.” 

“Indeed. It is…regrettable that someone under my jurisdiction should feel the need to do such a thing.” 

“I’m sure nobody would blame you, Governor,” Sabé spoke up, determined to remind him that she was there. She didn’t like the way he’d ignored her so far. It was true that she was meant to be a neutral party, but helping the duchess keep him occupied seemed more important. 

“Thank you for saying so, Lady Sabé,” Vizsla replied. “Now, can I get either of you ladies a drink?”

They both accepted, and Vizsla surveyed a collection of bottles in a well-hidden cupboard behind a wall panel. 

“What brings a Jedi to us anyway, Duchess?” he asked as he brought three glasses over to the table. “Is it just the rumours about us joining the Separatists?”

“Partially. The Jedi Council sent him to investigate the sabotage of a Republic ship. It looks like Death Watch are behind it. The Jedi Council are apparently of the opinion that they present a far bigger problem than we anticipated.”

Vizsla poured ingredients into a cocktail mixer as he listened, waiting for Satine to stop talking before he began shaking it. 

“Someone is feeding misinformation directly to the Republic Senate, saying that the Death Watch is taking over Mandalore,” Satine went on. “Who stands to gain from these lies?” 

“Death Watch, of course,” Vizsla answered, pouring her a drink. 

“They could not engineer all this.” She raised a weary hand to her forehead. “The problem has clearly grown much larger than we thought. And I suspect some external force helped it along.” 

“Hard to believe,” Vizsla said. 

He poured the mixture into the other two glasses, pushing one across the table to Sabé. She nodded her thanks. 

“It would have to be someone at the highest level of influence among the Separatists,” the governor theorised. 

“But why target me?” asked the duchess, her disappointment leaking into her tone. 

“You lead the Council of Neutral Systems, thus you threaten the Separatists’ goals,” Vizsla pointed out, taking his seat opposite Sabé. “Take it as a compliment. Someone very powerful is working towards your downfall.” 

The duchess looked anything _but_ complimented as she frowned at the table top. 

Sabé sipped her drink. It was not to her taste, but she swallowed it anyway, glad to have something to do. Time was ticking away.

_Obi-Wan, what are you up to?_

“How do you like the drink, Lady Sabé?” Vizsla asked her, as if guessing her opinion. 

“It’s very good, Governor. Unlike anything I’ve tried before.” 

“It’s a cocktail of my own invention. I like to experiment with ingredients.” 

“What an interesting hobby,” Sabé said with false enthusiasm. 

Vizsla smiled complacently. “Thank you.” 

A silence fell. They all emptied their glasses, Satine doing so in more of a hurry than the others. Clearly the discussion had upset her. 

“General Kenobi’s meditation is taking a rather long time,” Vizsla said at length. Sabé couldn’t tell if he was suspicious or mocking. 

“You know the Jedi,” Satine said lightly, playing with her glass, “they never do anything by halves.”

As if summoned by their talk, Obi-Wan’s voice suddenly filtered through Sabé’s headset. She could tell from Satine’s slight jump that he was broadcasting to her too. 

“Sabé, Duchess, please acknowledge.”

“May I offer you another drink?” asked Vizsla.

Sabé quickly flicked the microphone setting on her ear piece while the governor’s attention was on Satine, so it would pick up everything she said. 

“Yes,” Satine replied, sweeping her hair behind her ear as she held the button on her own com, “certainly.”

“I’m fine,” Sabé answered, knowing that the fact he could hear her at all would let Obi-Wan know she was listening. 

“I’m in a bit of an awkward spot,” Obi-Wan went on. “I’m being held by the Death Watch.”

Sabé’s heart sank.

“Sorry, Duchess, we’re out of ice,” Vizsla reported, examining the container. 

“Sorry to hear that,” Satine answered them both. 

Vizsla set the refilled glass in front of her. “Perhaps we should begin dinner without General Kenobi.” 

“There’s a tracking function on your comlink,” Obi-Wan said. “Follow it due east to my location.” 

Awkward under Vizsla’s constant scrutiny, Satine turned away, saying, “I don’t know if I can do that at the moment.” 

“It’s extremely urgent!” Obi-Wan insisted. 

“Don’t worry,” Sabé said, getting to her feet. “Duchess, you mustn’t think of etiquette when you’re clearly not feeling well. Come on, I’m taking you for a walk in the fresh air.” 

“Thank you, Lady Sabé, I would appreciate that.” 

“Shall I escort you outside?” Vizsla offered. 

“Take a speeder,” Obi-Wan advised. “It’s rough terrain.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” Sabé said, smiling sweetly at the governor.

Sabé put an arm around Satine, and they left the room, picking up the pace as soon as they were out of sight. They sprinted for the hangar, each hopping on a speeder bike and powering it up. Outside, the light reflecting off the surface of Mandalore bathed the scenery in a silvery glow. There was a clear path to follow through the young trees, and the tracker on Satine’s comlink concurred. The duchess could not communicate with Obi-Wan while she had both hands on the handlebars, but Sabé’s Naboo-issue device still had an open channel. 

“We’re on our way to you now,” she told him. “Hang tight.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?” he groused. 

“No, why?”

“You’ll see when you get here.” 

Not encouraged by the comment, they sped up, pushing the bikes to their limit. After a few minutes they spotted another speeder bike parked outside an open door leading into the rock face. 

“This must be it,” Satine said, checking the tracking device. 

Wary of wandering Death Watch members, they moved as silently as they could through the tunnels of the mine. 

“Where exactly are you?” Satine asked. 

“Listen for the loud, metallic clanging sound,” Obi-Wan growled acerbically. “That would be the machine about to smash me into bits.” 

“Sarcasm is really not helping at this point, Obi-Wan,” Sabé scolded as they ran. 

Satine shot her a look of agreement before skidding to a halt. Sabé stopped too, glancing back to see what had caught the duchess’s attention. 

“Look, a control panel for the alarm,” she indicated.

“Good thinking.” 

Tapping a few buttons, Satine set the alarm off, the obnoxious sound echoing through the tunnels. Distraction in place, they continued on their way, running low behind the conveyer belt that travelled the length of the corridor. As they reached the large processing plant at the end of the tunnel, two men in Mandalorian armour ran past them. 

Obi-Wan was hanging upside down above the conveyer belt, suspended in some kind of amber-coloured force field. The belt was taking him steadily towards an ominous pair of steel plates that slammed together at regular intervals. The controls for it were located on an elevated platform to one side. Satine hopped over the conveyer belt, running towards it. Deciding to see what she could do from the ground, Sabé hurried over to see if she could get him out of his bonds. 

“Well, it certainly took you long enough,” Obi-Wan barked, watching Satine’s progress.

“You know, we haven’t saved you yet,” she fired back. 

“Yes,” he said, looking ahead at the crushers. “No need to remind me of that.”

“Be patient,” she ordered, climbing the ladder. 

“I happen to be a bit short on patience right now!” 

Sabé walked backwards beside him, studying the contraption that held him, wondering if it would be safe to shoot him down. She drew her blaster, aiming it upwards, but hesitated. 

“I don’t know if I can get a clear shot,” she admitted. 

“There may not be another option!” Obi-Wan said. Tilting his head, he yelled, “Satine, turn the machine off!”

“I’m trying,” the duchess hollered back.

“Satine!” 

Sabé ran around the crushers, taking her aim on the other side.

“Sabé, shoot!” Obi-Wan ordered her. 

Then there came a triumphant shout from above. “There!” 

The crushers ground to a halt, a fraction of a second before Obi-Wan passed between them. Sabé squeezed the trigger, just as her blaster was knocked out of her hand. The shot went wide. Obi-Wan was still moving along the conveyer belt, heading to a collection of sharp-looking gears below. 

The Death Watch warriors had returned. Sabé spun, aiming a kick at the one that had disarmed her. In her peripheral vision, she saw that the duchess had been grabbed by the second man. The warrior on Sabé’s side of the belt hit out at her, and she ducked, raining punches that did very little other than bruise her hands. Still, she persevered, aiming for his neck, which was covered only by cloth. 

Obi-Wan reached the end of the line, hovering over the unforgiving machinery for a beat before the force field dropped him. Satine kicked a barrel into the gears, jamming them. Obi-Wan landed on it hands first, pushing himself up into a flip, eventually kicking away the man that held her. 

The warrior’s colleague turned to watch. Sabé took advantage of his distraction, jabbing her foot into the back of his knee, wrenching off his helmet, then knocking him out with it. She dropped the helmet beside him, blowing loose strands of hair out of her face. 

“We haven’t much time,” Obi-Wan said to her. 

Taking a running leap at the conveyer belt, Sabé crossed it without touching it, not wishing to find herself tumbling into the machinery. Satine found the switch for the elevator and they piled into it. 

“For a man sworn to peace, you take an unseemly pleasure in the injuries of others,” Satine commented as they moved upwards. 

“For a woman sworn to non-violence, you don’t seem troubled that I could have been killed back there,” Obi-Wan retorted, his tone bordering on irate. 

“But you _weren’t_ ,” she stressed. “And yet I still haven’t heard any thanks.” 

Sabé raised her eyebrows at the exchange, choosing to examine the wall beside her. She prayed to all the gods she could think of that they would leave her out of it. 

“Well,” she heard Obi-Wan say. “You certainly haven’t changed much.” 

The elevator came to a stop, the doors opening automatically. Another warrior stood outside, his back to them. As he began to turn, Obi-Wan darted forward and knocked him out. 

They were standing on a wide ledge above a valley dotted with several small buildings. Sabé could just make out the figures of several more Death Watch members below.

“They see us!” she warned. 

Obi-Wan backed into the elevator, pressing the button for the doors. The panel buzzed unhelpfully. Suddenly they found themselves dodging blaster fire. Giving up on the lift, Obi-Wan pulled them both behind an outcrop of rock. The elevator sparked, then plummeted down. 

“We’ll have to stand and fight,” Obi-Wan decided aloud. “Or, in your case,” he added to Satine, “just stand.” 

Satine shot him a dirty look.

“Um,” Sabé interjected, “I lost my blaster back there. And you seem to be missing something too.” 

Obi-Wan’s hand hovered over the empty belt clip where his lightsaber usually hung. “Hmm,” he murmured. 

Three warriors were coming towards them, using their rocket packs to cover the distance quickly. Obi-Wan used the Force to pull the unconscious guard’s blaster into his hands, returning fire. The shots missed and the warriors kept coming. Pausing a moment to study their movement, he squeezed the trigger. He hit the rocket pack of the man in the centre of the trio, and he flew backwards as it malfunctioned. 

The remaining two continued to fire at them, sending tiny chips of rock flying. Obi-Wan leaned forward to remove the rocket pack from the guard he’d knocked out. With a grunt, he threw it, rolling out from behind the rock to shoot it. It exploded in a ball of flame, leaving them hidden in a curtain of smoke. They paused for a moment, the blaster still aimed. Then a warrior burst out of the smog, tackling Obi-Wan to the ground. Caught by surprise, he seemed to be on the defensive. 

“Distract him!” Sabé ordered Satine, picking up the blaster that Obi-Wan had just dropped.

“You there!” the duchess shouted, throwing a stone at the warrior. Her aim was good, hitting him on the helmet. 

He turned his attention to her, firing a round of shots that she had to dodge. Sabé leapt up on his back, the blaster pulled tight against his neck. He spun, trying to throw her off, but she clung on. Obi-Wan got back on his feet, tugging the warrior’s blaster from his grip. 

“Off!” he exclaimed. 

Sabé hopped off the man’s back a mere moment before Obi-Wan kicked his legs out from under him, then sent him rolling away. 

“Going places with you is never boring,” Sabé observed, as Satine emerged from behind the rock. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” he replied. “Satine?”

“I’m all right,” the duchess confirmed. 

Down in the valley, ships were taking off. The only figures that remained were the four armoured men heading their way.

“They’re evacuating,” Sabé realised. 

“This must be the leader,” said Obi-Wan. 

The man in front wore a small half-cloak sporting the Death Watch symbol, setting him apart from the others. The warrior that Obi-Wan had kicked away was just getting to his knees, his limbs shaky. 

“Failure,” the leader growled, shooting him in the chest. 

Satine gasped. 

Sabé noticed Obi-Wan’s lightsaber hanging from his belt. Judging by the determined expression on his face, Obi-Wan had noticed it too, and he discarded the blaster. The group approached them, all four staring them down before the leader reached up and removed his helmet, revealing Vizsla’s complacent face. 

“Governor?” Satine breathed in disbelief. 

“For generations my ancestors fought proudly as warriors against the Jedi,” Vizsla spat. “Now _that_ woman tarnishes the very name Mandalorian. Defend her if you will.” 

He threw the lightsaber, which Obi-Wan caught easily and ignited, dropping into a stance that Sabé was familiar with from their sparring. 

Vizsla tossed away his cloak, drawing an ancient sword-like weapon from his back. 

“This lightsaber was stolen from your Jedi Temple by my ancestors during the fall of the Old Republic,” Vizsla said, activating it. Its blade was black, unlike any lightsaber Sabé had ever seen. “Since then, many Jedi have died upon its blade.” He pointed it at Obi-Wan. “Prepare yourself to join them.” 

Clutching her stolen blaster, Sabé backed up to join Satine at the rocky outcrop. She was a soldier, but she knew when to pick her fights. This was one she couldn’t help with. 

Giving a harsh battle cry, Vizsla leapt at Obi-Wan, who brought his blade up to block the attack. They traded blows, dancing around each other, but Sabé knew from experience that Vizsla wouldn’t last long, however good a fighter he was. Obi-Wan had the Force on his side. 

As if proving that fact, Obi-Wan threw out a hand, pushing Vizsla back into his three companions. Teeth grinding in rage, Vizsla shrugged off their assistance, plunging back into the duel. Obi-Wan sent a knee into his face for his troubles, knocking the ancient weapon out of his hand. 

Vizsla punched him, knocking him back off his feet. Taking advantage of the reprieve, he rushed to pick up his lightsaber. Activating his rocket pack, he leapt high, aiming a sweeping downward cut. Obi-Wan eyed him critically from where he crouched, picking his moment carefully. In a Force-extended jump, he shot up to meet him, raining punches, eventually spinning Vizsla in a circle before sending him down to fall at his compatriots’ feet. 

He exchanged a glare with Obi-Wan, before yelling, “Warriors, finish him!” 

Sabé aimed her blaster as the remaining three stepped forward, but they did not advance. Instead, they all bent forward, each shooting a missile from their rocket packs. Obi-Wan dodged them all, but rather than hitting the rocks behind him, they curved in a wide arc, coming back around. Sabé’s eyes widened as she remembered the elevator was gone. Still, the lift shaft was their only plausible exit. Obi-Wan seemed to think so too, backing away towards it, calling for Satine. The duchess left her cover and ran to him, Sabé on her heels. 

“Sabé, my left!” Obi-Wan yelled. 

Darting to his other side, Sabé clung on as Obi-Wan wrapped an arm around her waist. Without hesitation, he leapt down the lift shaft as the missiles hit above them. He slowed their fall with the Force at the last possible moment, manoeuvring them sideways into an open corridor a few floors up from the bottom. They landed awkwardly, all rolling away from each other. Obi-Wan tried to protect the duchess from raining shrapnel, and Sabé threw her hands over her head to do the same. Eventually, all was still, but for the sound of burning above and below. 

“Is everyone all right?” Obi-Wan asked, sitting up. 

“Fine,” Sabé affirmed, at the same time the duchess said, “Yes.” 

“Sabé?” he added. “I couldn’t reach you, did any of the debris hit you?”

“Not that I noticed,” she told him truthfully. 

She sent him a tiny smile to reassure him, and he nodded.

“I think we should be on our way,” he said, grunting as he got to his feet. “They could come looking for us.” 

“I would imagine they’ll run away like the cowards they are,” Satine said bitterly, accepting a hand up. 

“Even still, we should move now.” 

Sabé led the way, brandishing the blaster she had stubbornly kept hold of. Satine followed behind, supporting a limping Obi-Wan. It was not long before they found themselves back outside with their speeders. 

“Are you going to be able to ride?” Satine asked. 

“I’m injured, not infirm,” he told her. “And it’s only a sprain, it will be gone in the morning.” 

“I merely asked,” she said, holding up a defensive hand. “I suppose we’re even now.”

“Oh?” he said curiously. “How so?” 

Leaving him by a speeder, she shrugged as she headed for her own. “I saved your life, you saved mine…” 

“Yes…” Obi-Wan admitted. “Well, mine was the more daring of the two rescues.” 

Satine seemed to be wryly amused, but Sabé threw up her hands in despair. 

“Gods, will you just stop? You’re like children!” Irritated, she tossed the blaster aside and swung her leg over her speeder bike. 

Satine looked affronted, but Obi-Wan wore a chastened expression.

“I’m…sorry,” he said humbly. “Duchess, thank you for saving my life. You too, Sabé.”

Sabé shrugged off the thanks, still irked. 

“You’re welcome,” Satine replied, a little more sweetly. “And thank you for saving mine.” 

Sabé powered up her speeder, leaving them both behind. She knew they would follow within minutes. She had very rarely seen Obi-Wan act the way he had during the course of their single day in the Mandalore system. Satine still got under his skin, that much was painfully clear. Tears pricked her eyes and were snatched away by the wind. She couldn’t wait to get back to the palace, shut herself in her guest room and burrow under the bed clothes. 

Satine’s guards were waiting for them back at the hangar. They eyed Sabé warily when she arrived, and she quickly reassured them that the duchess was following on behind. It was only a wait of two minutes or so before Obi-Wan and Satine appeared, the former shooting her a concerned and slightly puzzled look. 

“Tell the pilot to ready the ship,” Satine said to her guards. “We’re returning to the palace.” 

“Are you all right?” Obi-Wan asked Sabé in a low voice. “Why did you run off like that?”

“I’m tired and I ache,” she replied levelly. “Having a weaponless fight with someone wearing armour is no joke.” 

He lifted one of her hands, studying the stormy-coloured bruise that was already forming across her knuckles. “Yes, I see.” 

Feeling self-conscious, she pulled away. “I just want to get back and sleep,” she said apologetically. 

Obi-Wan scrutinised her, looking thoughtful. “All right. Tomorrow we’re returning to Coruscant.”

She glanced at him, surprised. “So soon?”

“The duchess wishes to address the Senate to plead her case and reaffirm her neutrality. I’m going to contact the Council and see if they can send someone to meet us with a squad of clone troopers, so we can ensure her safety on the journey.”

“I see.” 

The entry lift came down as the ship powered up. Satine stepped onto it and glanced at them expectantly. Sabé went to join her, Obi-Wan retrieving his robe and shrugging it on before following suit. 

It was a quiet trip back to Mandalore, each of them lost in their own thoughts. When they were safely back at the palace, Satine offered them dinner, despite the late hour. Sabé declined, pleading her injuries, and bade them good night before she could hear whether Obi-Wan accepted. 

Safely shut in her room, she retreated to the fresher and ran a bath, running on autopilot as she turned the day’s events over in her mind. Hissing as the warm water caressed her bruised skin, she sank into it, letting it soothe her. She wasn’t badly hurt, she’d certainly had worse, but she was glad to have the excuse to escape. 

_You knew what it would be like_ , she told herself, _to watch the two of them meet again._

_Exactly_ , another part of her reflected, _that’s why I didn’t want to come._

She let herself slip down, so that all but her nose was underwater. Eyes firmly shut, she replayed everything that had happened, every little moment she had witnessed between Obi-Wan and Satine, leading up to her outburst outside the mine. 

_You shouldn’t have reacted so emotionally,_ she scolded herself. _Why does love make me so irrational? It’s not like anything unexpected happened. It’s not like I have any expectations of Obi-Wan either._

She knew better than that, at least. 

Sabé pushed herself back up, wiping the excess water from her eyes. She had to get a grip, or she would give herself away. No good could come from the situation, whichever way she looked at it. Obi-Wan was a Jedi, an unavailable man. And if he sometimes found himself bending the rules, as he’d said, it was Satine he would look to, not her. Perhaps that was what hurt. He _was_ willing to ignore certain parts of the Code, just not for her. 

_Stop it._

Her stomach gave a growl, reminding her that skipping dinner hadn’t been her best idea. Still, there was nothing she could do about it now except use up the hours until breakfast by sleeping. Using the different coloured gels at her disposal, she washed body and hair before draining the bath and stepping out. Wrapping thick towels around herself and her hair, she padded back into the bedroom in search of her night clothes. 

Obi-Wan was sitting on the bed. 

Sabé froze, for a moment unable to process his appearance. 

“What are you doing in here?” she asked, trying not to sound hostile. 

“I brought you some food. I thought you might be regretting rushing off.” 

_Damn you and your perceptiveness,_ she ranted inwardly. 

“How did you get in? I thought I locked the door.”

He offered a shrug. “Jedi.” He reached out a hand, showing her an object wrapped in a napkin. “It’s a bread roll and…some kind of meat. I’m not sure exactly what it is.”

She accepted it, thanking him, and set it down on the bed so she could look through her bag. Finally locating the shorts and vest she wore for sleeping, she looked up at him. 

“Could you, uh, turn around please?” 

Obi-Wan glanced away at once. Keeping an eye on the back of his head, Sabé dropped her towel and shimmied into her clothes. He wasn’t the kind of man to sneak a look, but she didn’t want any awkwardness, even accidental. 

“Does Satine know you’re here?” she could not help asking. 

“I doubt it,” he replied. “She went to bed.” 

“Okay, I’m done.” 

He looked back at her, seemingly appraising her mood. Sabé let him get on with it, tugging the towel from her hair and attacking the tangles with her hairbrush. 

“What’s the matter?” he asked. 

It was a larger question than he realised, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. Neither could she say it was nothing, a lie that he would see through at once. 

“I’m just a little edgy, that’s all,” she said. “I told you before we came, I don’t like not raising the subject of our relationship. It looks like we’re hiding it. And…if I may say, the duchess still seems…quite taken with you.” 

He frowned slightly, clasping his hands inside his sleeves. “Yes,” he muttered softly, “I know.” 

Winning her battle, Sabé lowered her brush. She scooped up the roll and joined him, sitting cross-legged on the bed. 

“May I be frank?” she ventured. 

“Of course.” 

“I’m not sure that bickering with her is helping. I mean, I think others notice…you know, that there’s…something.” 

Obi-Wan nodded, staring at the floor. Sabé pulled small pieces off the roll, chewing them as she waited for him to reply. The meat was light and bland, but not unpleasant. She still wasn’t sure what it was. 

“She…brings that out in me,” he confessed at length. “I don’t know why, but we’ve always been able to argue with the best of them. I used to think that perhaps it was a sign of, uh… _other_ tension. But in hindsight…” He sighed, meeting her gaze. “You remember what I told you when you first asked me about her?”

“Yes,” she said. “You said your relationship was intense but destructive.”

“This is what I meant: our ability to peck holes in each other. If we were left to do so over time, how much would be left eventually? We would destroy each other without really meaning to. All that would be left is resentment and hatred.” 

He sounded so certain that Sabé wondered if he’d had a vision of the future. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to ask. 

“I always mean to be more guarded,” he went on. “I have the best of intentions, but…” 

She swallowed the mouthful she was eating, and rested a hand lightly on his shoulder. “You may be a Jedi, but you’re also a man. You’re entitled to your vulnerabilities. It’s just that…maybe I have it wrong, but I assume the Jedi always expect you to move past them. They don’t expect you not to have any at all.” 

“That’s true, but I fear I’m failing miserably.” 

Sabé lowered her hand. _Do you still love her?_ she asked silently. She didn’t dare say it aloud. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer, however much closure it would provide. 

He straightened up, sending her a small, insincere smile. “Anyway, it’s my burden to bear. I just wanted to see that you were all right.”

“I’m fine. Just worried about you.” 

“Don’t be,” he instructed, waving it off. “I know where my loyalty lies: with the Jedi. Now, get some sleep. We leave for Coruscant after breakfast.”

“Thank you for the food,” Sabé said. 

“You’re welcome.” He got to his feet, heading for the door. His limp was barely noticeable. “See you in the morning,” he threw back over his shoulder. 

“Yes,” she replied with a nod. “Good night.” 

He slipped out the door, and Sabé unfolded herself and crossed the room to set the lock. It was a rather cold, formal room, with the high ceiling customary of the rest of the palace. She was glad that the bed had a canopy above it. 

Mulling the conversation over in her mind, she finished the rest of her roll, brushing the crumbs off the coverlet. She was proud of herself for her control, keeping her own sorrows within while she talked about Obi-Wan’s. That was the way it should be from now on. She had to keep her feelings to herself, however difficult it got. 

Hoping her overloaded brain would let her rest, Sabé climbed into bed, flicking her damp hair to one side. She practiced a few meditation breathing techniques as she lay there, and eventually she managed to drift into a calm sleep.

***

The ornate ship that would take them to Coruscant was called the _Coronet_. It would be accompanied by the Republic cruisers that had brought Anakin and his squadron of troopers, as well as Obi-Wan’s two-seater fighter that needed to be flown back. 

Breakfast had been a quiet affair. The duchess, once again in her blue and green formal gown, had talked softly with her aide, Tal Merrik, while Obi-Wan and Sabé discussed the idea of Padmé being an ally to Satine’s cause. The two were very similarly minded, although Padmé was willing to resort to aggressive negotiations when necessary. 

Prime Minister Almec accompanied them to the docks. He would be serving as regent while the duchess was away. As they walked, they talked of the recent developments concerning Death Watch.

“Although it is clear that they present a larger problem than we thought,” Satine was saying, “I still believe that that problem is ours to deal with. _That_ is what I shall be reinforcing to the Senate.” 

Tal Merrik spoke up, “But if Pre Vizsla fled we have no way of learning how widespread Death Watch really is.” 

“It’s obvious the Separatists are supporting the Death Watch,” Obi-Wan put in. 

“I disagree,” Satine countered, turning to face him. “I told you I wanted to stay out of this conflict.” 

Obi-Wan glanced back at her, unruffled. “Given the current situation, I’m afraid that may no longer be possible.” 

Sabé suspected that that was _not_ what the duchess wanted to hear. 

Sure enough, her expression turned openly antagonistic. “I thought you of all people would understand my position on this matter,” she said vehemently. “I will _never_ be a part of this war.”

With that, she stormed away, Merrik at her side. Almec sent Obi-Wan a sympathetic look before heading for the skiff that would take him back to the palace. Obi-Wan sighed heavily, his face brightening as he saw Anakin approaching. 

His former Padawan was flanked by Captain Rex and Commander Cody, two officers making a name for themselves in the war. 

“Reporting for escort duty, General,” Anakin greeted cheerfully. 

“It’s very good to see you,” Obi-Wan said, smiling. 

“You too. Hi, Sabé.”

Sabé nodded to him, sending him a smile of her own. “Hello, Anakin. How are you?”

“Tired, but not as tired as you two look,” he answered, scrutinising them. “Has the investigation gone that badly?” 

“Let’s just say that Sabé and I managed to run into the less peaceful of Mandalore’s citizens.” 

“With alarming regularity,” Sabé added. 

Anakin looked both amused and intrigued. “Well, now you get to sit through a boring trip back to Coruscant. At least someone will be happy.” 

“My only hope is that it _is_ a boring trip,” Obi-Wan said, and they headed for the ship, ready to leave Mandalore behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry to Satine fans, but I had to have Sabé call them out on their childish bickering. It really annoys me!


	16. Betrayal on the Coronet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Again, any dialogue you recognise comes from Clone Wars, although I did change up quite a bit in this one. This chapter ended up super long too. You'd best make yourselves a drink.

**Chapter Sixteen – Betrayal on the _Coronet_. **

 

The _Coronet_ was an elaborate luxury cruiser, quite unlike any ship Sabé had travelled in before. Its corridors were gently curved, ornate bronze detailing spiralling across the ceiling in a wide arch. The floors were covered with patterned carpet, and the rooms reserved for important guests offered views of the scenery through huge windows of thick transparisteel. Granted, that scenery was often just the icy blur of hyperspace, but it had its own impressive beauty nonetheless. Serving droids ensured that no one's glass was ever empty, and an on-board band of musicians was available to make sure that the trip passed quickly, although Satine quickly decided to pass on that particular offer. 

Sabé had parted ways with the Jedi once they were on board. Obi-Wan and Anakin had headed down to the cargo hold, where they could address their troops without drawing too much unnecessary attention. Sabé had joined Satine, where she would be acting as an additional bodyguard. Obi-Wan hadn't asked her to, but she knew she'd be the only one among the party of dignitaries that was armed and capable. Satine was sharing her journey with several senators, including one that Sabé was familiar with: Onaconda Farr, a Rodian friend of Padmé's. 

She and Satine walked the corridors together, making their way to the suite of rooms set aside for the duchess's use. Tal Merrik, Satine's aide, had gone on ahead to check that everything was in order. The duchess was quiet, apparently still cross about the small altercation back at the docks. Sabé wasn't sure what to say to her anyway, so the silence was fine by her. Then the shrill beeping from her holo projector broke it.

"Sorry," she muttered, digging it out of the pouch on her belt. 

Satine waved away her apology with a sweep of her hand. 

Sabé pressed the activation switch and Gregar's small, blue figure materialised in her palm. 

"Hello, stranger," he greeted. 

"Gregar," she said, surprised. "I've only been gone for a day, don't tell me you've broken something already." 

"How do you think we managed before you transferred to us?" he asked exasperatedly. 

"I don't know, it's a mystery to me." 

He grinned, then quickly sobered. "Are you alone?" 

Sabé shot a quick glance sideways. "Duchess Satine is with me, but I trust her." 

Gregar nodded, and she knew he understood what she meant. _Don't talk about Obi-Wan!_ She had shared her concerns about the secrets they were keeping from the duchess. Although she had felt guilty about alluding to Obi-Wan's past with her, she had needed another opinion, even though Gregar simply told her to see how things turned out. 

"I just wanted to give you a heads up before you get back," he said. "There's been another hit. Another two, actually."

Sabé stopped walking, her stomach plummeting into her boots. "Another _two_?" she repeated in shock. 

"Yes," Gregar confirmed grimly. "Last night, which means that suspect number one doesn't have a solid alibi." 

The duchess had stopped too and was looking at her with an expression of concern. 

"Do we know who?" Sabé asked. 

"I don't have names, but I do know that they were bodyguards appointed by the Queen to watch over your parents." 

"They...my...what? What are they even doing there?" Sabé exclaimed, trying to grasp the unexpected situation. 

"They came for the gala," Gregar told her. 

"That's not for another week!" 

He shrugged. "Guess they wanted to make it a vacation. You'll have to ask them." 

"Are they okay?"

"They're fine. Like before, it was just the security that was hit." 

Sabé started walking again, her pace slow. The duchess kept level with her, a curious frown on her face. 

"This is ridiculous," she stated. "What is the Jedi Council even doing?" 

"I don't know," Gregar said sympathetically. 

Sabé felt her anger flare. "When I get back, I'm going to go and find out." 

"Just wait before you go in all guns blazing," he advised calmly. "Talk to Obi-Wan. He's in a better position to ask them." 

She nodded reluctantly, seeing the sense in his words. She was fuming, but she didn’t want to take it out on him. “Thank you for letting me know,” she said after a pause. “And about my parents being on Coruscant. That’s not a surprise I would have relished.” 

Gregar smiled. “You do amaze me.” He glanced at something unseen over his shoulder. “I should go. Safe trip.”

“Thanks. See you in a few hours.” She pressed the button and his image faded. “Sorry about that,” she said to Satine. 

“Not at all. Is everything okay?” 

“Not really,” Sabé muttered candidly. As briefly as possible, she explained the situation, apologising for her subdued mood. 

“As I must apologise for mine,” the duchess replied. “Let’s hope nothing else occurs to annoy us today.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Sabé said dryly. 

“As will I.”

They exchanged a look of mutual empathy, both managing a small smile. Turning another lazy corner of the ship’s corridor, they reached a spacious lounge, where a dais covered in cushions awaited Satine. Everyone else, it seemed, had to stand. Nobody seemed to be complaining, however, the senators all conversing amiably, clutching glasses of whatever it was the droids were serving. Tal Merrik offered Satine a hand, which she accepted, holding her skirts up as she climbed the steps and took her seat. She beckoned to Sabé, who drifted closer.

“Pardon me for asking,” the duchess began, “but when do you plan to speak to Obi-Wan about the…situation your friend spoke of?”

Sabé tried to hide her surprise at the question. “Oh…later, I’m sure. It’s not important right now.”

Satine slanted one immaculate eyebrow. “It isn’t?”

“No, our priority is you,” she said. “There’s nothing we can do until we get back to Coruscant anyway. There’ll be plenty of time for me to update Obi-Wan. Right now he’s focused on you.” 

_There’s more truth in that than I intended_ , she reflected inwardly. 

“Even still… I’ll send for him. Then you can raise the topic if there’s an opportunity.” 

“Oh…okay,” Sabé accepted, still feeling that it was unnecessary. “Thank you, Duchess.” 

Satine summoned Merrik to her side. He approached, bowing deeply, managing to balance the wrapped cloth of his headdress as it threatened to slip off his head. 

“Please inform Master Kenobi that his presence is requested.” 

Merrik nodded and stalked off to pass the order on to one of the guards. 

_Ah_ , Sabé thought, _maybe she just wants to get Obi-Wan up here and I'm giving her an excuse. Gods know, I won't complain. Having The Negotiator nearby while dealing with a bunch of senators is always..._ Her train of thought hit a wall as something suddenly occurred to her. _These are Republic senators. They will have heard about Obi-Wan and me. They may not recognise me now, but they'll put two and two together when he gets here._

Slightly alarmed, she turned to Satine. "Excuse me for a moment, Duchess." Without waiting for a reply, she walked briskly across the room and out the door, breaking into a little trotting run in the corridor outside. Obi-Wan and Anakin stepped out of the turbolift as she approached it, accompanied by Rex and Cody. Both looked at her with concern as she hurried up to them.

"Is everything all right?" Obi-Wan asked at once. 

"Fine," she answered quickly, to put his mind at ease. "Well, sort of. The senators in there, they're Republic senators." 

Obi-Wan and Anakin exchanged a bemused glance, the latter saying slowly, "Yes...yes, they are." 

Exasperated, Sabé clarified, "Well, they _know_. About the arrangement between Obi-Wan and me. You know, the one that the duchess _does not know about_ but very clearly _soon will_?"

"Hmm," said Anakin, clearly grasping her point. 

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, still seemed unperturbed. "Why are you so worked up about this, Sabé?"

"Why aren't you?" she threw back at him. "You knew there was a possibility she would find out, do you really want it to happen in front of a room full of senators?"

For the first time, he looked uncertain. There was a pause as he considered. "Well," he said at length, "nothing for it. Let's go and make the best of it. It all may come to nothing." He sounded hopeful more than convinced. 

Rex and Cody both looked at the floor. It said more of their opinions on the matter than if their faces could be seen. Anakin was openly sceptical, but resigned. 

Together, the group walked back to the lounge, where they could hear Satine's impassioned words before the door had even opened. 

“War is intolerable," she was saying. "We have been deceived into thinking that we must be a part of it. I say the moment we committed to fighting, we already lost.” 

"Er, we'll stay outside, sir," spoke up Rex, clearly feeling that the presence of soldiers would not improve the duchess's mood. "Keep an eye out."

"Very well," Obi-Wan acknowledged, looking a tad preoccupied. 

The other three stepped forward to activate the door sensor and it slid open. They entered the room just in time to hear Merrik ask, “Excuse me, Your Grace, are you suggesting we oppose the war on humanitarian grounds?” 

“I’m going to oppose it as an affront to life itself," Satine declared imperiously. "As the designated regent of fifteen hundred systems, I speak for thousands of worlds that urged me to allow them to stay neutral in this war.”

“And yet some might argue that the strongest defence is a swift and decisive offence,” Obi-Wan put in. 

The duchess appraised him coolly. “You are quite the general now, aren’t you, Master Kenobi?” 

“Forgive me for interrupting, Duchess. I meant no disrespect.” 

“Really?" she said, amused. "Senators, I presume you are acquainted with the collection of half-truths and hyperbole known as Obi-Wan Kenobi?” 

The senators all murmured affirmatives, some looking at Obi-Wan in a manner that suggested they had not heard him described that way before. Sabé thought it was a rather harsh description, but then she supposed she was biased. 

“The duchess is too kind," Obi-Wan replied, his sarcasm subtle but there. 

“You’re right," Satine agreed. "I am.” 

Steering the topic in a different direction, he turned and gestured. “Allow me to introduce my fellow Jedi, Anakin Skywalker.” 

“Your servant, my lady,” Anakin said graciously, bowing.

Satine nodded to him, then turned her attention to the serving droid who was refilling her glass. “I remember a time when Jedi were not generals, but peacekeepers.” 

“We are protectors, Duchess. Yours at the moment. We fight for peace.” 

She chucked. “What an amusing contradiction.” 

Obi-Wan attempted to smooth things over, although the duchess's frosty demeanour was not making it easy. “What Jedi Skywalker means is that we are acting to protect you from the Death Watch and the Separatists, who don’t share your neutral point of view.” 

“I asked for no such thing," Satine snapped.

“That may be so," Obi-Wan gently amended, "but a majority of your court did.”

Sabé noticed a few of the senators exchanging puzzled glances, and she shifted awkwardly. Neither Obi-Wan nor Satine seemed to care that they were well on the way to revealing their forbidden past with attitude alone. 

“I do not remember you as one to hide behind excuses," Satine said sharply. 

Quick as a flash, he retorted, “I do not remember you as one to shrink from responsibilities.” 

Unseen, Sabé rested her palm on his back, reminding him where they were. His posture immediately became less tense and she dropped her hand. 

Meanwhile, the Twi’lek senator, Orn Free Taa, stepped between the duchess's dais and the group by the door, his plump blue hands raised in peaceful gesture. “I am certain we all agree," he said in accented Basic. "Duchess Satine and General Kenobi have proven that there are two sides to every dilemma.”

“Indeed," agreed Tal Merrik. He had a rather unfortunate natural expression to his face that made him look as if he was permanently sneering. 

“Now," Taa continued, "in regard to the Senate vote, we think–”

“I think a multitude makes discord, not good council,” Satine interrupted him. 

If he was annoyed by her rudeness, he was too much a diplomat to show it. “Right again, my lady.”

“There may be two sides to every dilemma," Obi-Wan said in an undertone, "but the duchess only favours hers.”

Anakin nodded his concurrence, but he seemed entertained by the whole exchange. 

"Master Kenobi," spoke up Senator Kin Robb of Taris, her voice welcomingly calm, "would you not agree that the Separatists are simply not open to the idea of systems remaining neutral in this war?" 

"I would," he said. "I wish it were otherwise, but unfortunately a Republic military presence is the only sure defence against the Separatists.”

“Even extremists can be reasoned with,” Satine snapped exasperatedly, getting to her feet. 

"No," Obi-Wan countered, his tone still gentle, "they can't. That's why we call them extremists."

The duchess stared at him, eyes narrowed, as if his composed conduct had thrown her. Perhaps it had. After all, he usually argued back.

“I believe Master Kenobi has hit the nail on the head,” Onaconda Farr put in. 

“Really?” asked the duchess. “How so?”

“Well, Count Dooku and his ilk are extremists, as you said. They’re not like rational people, so therefore they cannot be reasoned with.” 

“Perhaps that is because we do not treat them like rational people,” Satine fired back. “If we did, we might find that they _are_ open to negotiation.” 

“If the chance for negotiation had ever been an option, the Jedi would have taken it,” Anakin said frowning. “The Separatists took violent action against a Republic senator before the war even started, then tried to have Obi-Wan killed.” 

The duchess’s gaze moved to Obi-Wan, seeming to challenge him to comment. Sabé hoped he wouldn’t take the bait. There was little point in adding to a discussion that was going nowhere. 

“I had heard that you were involved at the start of all this,” Satine said, taciturn. 

“I was following the orders of the Jedi Council,” Obi-Wan informed her placidly, “as always.”

“Oh, not always, Master Kenobi,” Merrik spoke up with a harsh bark of laughter. 

Sabé clenched fistfuls of skirt, dreading his next words. She knew what was coming. From his sudden tenseness, she could tell that Obi-Wan knew it too. 

Merrik wore the barest trace of a smirk as he went on. “What about when you married Lady Sabé?”

“What about it?” Obi-Wan asked, trying to break the onset of tension in the room. The senators looked between him and Satine, perhaps expecting some kind of explosion. 

The duchess hadn’t moved. She seemed carved from ice, her expression fixed so rigidly she was almost trembling. 

“Well, you weren’t following the orders of the Council then,” said Merrik, who seemed to be trying to hide how much enjoyment he was getting from stirring trouble. He wasn’t having much success. “In fact, the Coruscanti HoloNet reports that you were reprimanded, yet a Jedi you remain. What is going on in that Temple of yours? Are you sure it’s really the war you ought to be focusing on?” 

“I was reprimanded for going against the Council,” Obi-Wan explained calmly. “Once the situation was explained, they agreed to let it stand. But if you’ve seen the HoloNet reports, then you already know all this.”

“Not all of us know it. In fact, I had to go digging.”

“I’m surprised you had time in your busy schedule to do such a thing,” Obi-Wan said, nonchalant. “Especially considering that it isn’t relevant to my visit to Mandalore.” 

Merrik folded his arms, looking dubious. “Oh, I think it’s very relevant when a Jedi who claims to be seeking the truth of one matter keeps secrets about another.” 

“It’s not a secret. You said yourself you found the story on the HoloNet.” 

Sabé tried not to smile at Merrik’s look of annoyance. Clearly, he was just a spiteful little man who was having some fun at the expense of them all. She couldn’t tell if it was on the duchess’s behalf, although it seemed evident that he guessed something of her past with Obi-Wan.

“And,” said Satine, her voice blank and cold, “what is so important it makes a Jedi turn his back on his Code?” 

“He hasn’t violated the Code,” Sabé spoke up, not happy with the accusatory remarks thrown at Obi-Wan’s feet. “Our marriage was a means of keeping me out of an arranged marriage that I believe would have posed a serious risk to my safety. When we explained it to the Jedi Council, they happened to agree, although they did not approve of our methods.” 

The duchess took in the information with a severe expression, her countenance more than a little hostile. Hidden deep in her pale blue eyes, a spark of hurt lingered. 

“Duchess, Master Jedi, Lady Sabé,” Merrik interjected, “it’s been a long trip. I think we could all use a little rest and refreshment.” 

Sabé shot him a stony look, not liking his devious way of conducting himself. 

“Hear, hear,” said Orn Free Taa, the relief at the break in tension evident in his voice. “Now, let us put politics and marriages aside until after dinner.” 

“Fine,” Satine declared, although it was obvious from her demeanour that the topic was not permanently dropped. She stalked down the steps of her dais, hands clasped behind her back, and marched out the door, causing Sabé, Obi-Wan and Anakin to dance out of her way. As she passed, Sabé saw that her hands were clenched so tightly, her fingers had turned ivory. 

The other dignitaries all trailed out after her, talking quietly amongst themselves. The remaining three joined Cody and Rex in the corridor. 

“Everything all right, sir?” Cody asked, 

“Splendid,” Obi-Wan replied sardonically. 

“Why don’t you two go and check that the duchess has enough guards outside the dining room,” Anakin said. “Then maybe see what’s going on downstairs.” 

The troopers nodded, heading down the corridor after the party of politicians. Sabé watched them go, a frown creasing her brow. She knew she should stay with the duchess, but she didn’t know how welcome she would be now. 

“I’d better go too,” she muttered reluctantly.

“All right,” Obi-Wan said with a nod. “I’ll be there shortly.” 

Understanding that he needed a moment, Sabé returned his nod, sending him a brief smile. Taking a deep breath, she walked away towards the dining room.

***

Obi-Wan watched Sabé make her way down the corridor, her posture as rigid as if she were walking into battle. Perhaps, in a way, she was. He'd sensed a vague ambience of deception ever since he'd stepped on board, and had been waiting to see if it developed into something more solid. Maybe it was centring on Merrik’s little game. 

He and Anakin headed the other way, towards the quarters that had been set aside for their use. 

“You and Satine have a history,” Anakin stated as they went. 

Obi-Wan was not surprised by the remark. It had been made more obvious than he would like. Satine was so open with her emotions, she made him unguarded too. 

“An extended mission when I was younger,” he said. “Master Qui-Gon and I spent a year on Mandalore, protecting the duchess from insurgents who had threatened her world.”

They entered the turbolift, pressing the button for the floor below. 

“They sent bounty hunters after us,” he went on, remembering. “We were always on the run, living hand to mouth, never sure what the next day would bring.”

Anakin smiled to himself. “Sounds romantic.” 

Obi-Wan sent him an exasperated look. “In a holo-novel perhaps. In real life, it’s a gruelling way to live.”

“So, what happened?” Anakin pestered as they exited the lift. 

“A civil war killed most of Satine’s people, hence her aversion to violence. When she returned, she took on the difficult task of rebuilding her world alone.” 

Anakin seemed surprised. “You didn’t stay to help her?” 

“That would have been problematic,” Obi-Wan said, feeling the weight of the statement and the memories it invoked. He entered his quarters, moving a chair with a sweep of his hand. Sitting heavily, he added, “My duty as a Jedi demanded I be elsewhere.”

Anakin leaned against the doorframe, frowning. “Demanded? But…it’s obvious you had feelings for her, surely that would affect your decision?” 

Well aware that Anakin struggled to grasp the concept of putting duty first, Obi-Wan muttered, “Oh, it did. But I live by the Jedi Code.”

“Of course,” Anakin said, rolling his eyes. “As Master Yoda says: A Jedi must not form attachments.” 

“Yes,” he agreed, “but he usually leaves out the undercurrent of remorse.” Exactly what the remorse pertained to, Obi-Wan wasn’t as sure as he’d once been. The beeping of his comlink interrupted his train of thought before it really got going. “Yes, Captain?” 

“General, something’s wrong with Skywalker’s astromech,” came Rex’s voice. “Scared him real good, sir. I’ve also lost contact with two of my men.”

“I’m on my way down to assist you,” he declared, getting to his feet. 

“I’ll go, Master,” Anakin said, holding up a hand, his old habits of address coming back to him. “If there’s something dangerous down there, the clones and I can handle it.” With a congenial smile, he left the room. 

Obi-Wan sat back down, resting his chin in his hand. He’d spent a fair amount of time assessing his own feelings the previous evening. For seventeen years, part of him had never stopped wondering what his life would have been like if he had stayed with Satine. Despite the reasoning that had prompted his departure, he’d wondered. He’d mourned that life that he would never have. How strange and ironic that being reunited with her had been the catalyst to ending that dream. 

She was as beautiful as ever, of course, but time and distance had painted her in rosy hues in his memory. It had been a sharp awakening for him to be reminded just how sensitive and argumentative she was, how stubborn and haughty, how judgemental and naïve. All things he’d known before, but had somehow forgotten as he remembered only the good times. 

Before arriving, part of him had relished the thought of being in her company again. As he spent more time with her, he found himself missing Sabé’s quiet ways and sharp humour, despite the fact that the woman herself had been right there with him. But it was not the same as their companionable evenings together in the apartment. 

_This is dangerous thinking, Kenobi_ , he told himself sternly. _When will you learn?_

Sabé was a good friend, perhaps the best friend he had after Anakin. She’d given him reassurance the previous night, despite the fact that something was clearly bothering her, something she didn’t want to share. 

And Satine? He wasn’t sure _what_ Satine was to him. Someone he cared about, yes. He always would. But perhaps time, the great healer, had finally healed. 

With a sigh, he stood up, heading for the door. He’d had his five minutes of peace, although his head felt no clearer for it. It was time to enter the fray once more. 

The dining room, like the lounge, offered its occupants a panoramic view of their journey through hyperspace. It was a spacious room, the table directly in the middle, with booths either side for more private diners. As Obi-Wan entered, he saw that it was a hive of activity, with small droids circling the table carrying serving dishes. Satine sat at the head of the table, her back to the window, a protocol droid hovering nervously behind her. To her right sat Tal Merrik and Orn Free Taa, to her left, Kin Robb and Onaconda Farr. Sabé stood off to one side looking a little agitated, and like she was hiding much more agitation than she was showing. 

“I beg your pardon, senators,” he said as he entered. “Our men are investigating a situation below decks. I respectfully ask you to wait here until it is settled.” 

All eyes turned to regard him with curiosity, but he chose not to elaborate. Eventually they went back to their food, with the exception of Satine, who did not seem to be eating. Aware of her gaze boring holes in him, he approached Sabé. 

“Everything all right in here?” he asked her, keeping his voice low. 

She nodded, although she still seemed ill at ease. “It’s fine, I just…didn’t think I could really sit at the table.” She gave a half shrug, looking uncomfortable and a touch embarrassed. “I’m not hungry anyway. What’s going on below?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he told her. “I’m waiting for Anakin to report.” 

Sabé nodded again, her gaze carefully avoiding the table and the livid woman sitting at its head. “I feel _so_ awkward,” she whispered, so softly that he had to lip read her words. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, knowing that he should have trusted her instinct on the matter. He’d been too confident about his own ability to handle the situation. 

She looked as if she were about to protest, but his comlink chimed, cutting all conversation short. 

“Excuse me,” he said to the senators, turning away from them. “Anakin, what have you found?” he asked quietly. 

“There’s a large open container and the contents are missing,” came Anakin’s faint voice. “And I still have two men unaccounted for.” 

“That’s not good,” he muttered. “Keep things quiet, I’ll stay with the senators.” 

“Got it.” He signed off. 

Obi-Wan met Sabé’s gaze. Her expression was grim. “What weapons are you carrying?” he asked. 

“Blaster and vibroblade,” she answered at once. “Though I don’t like not knowing what we’re dealing with.” 

“Nor me.” He slipped off his robe, draping over a nearby chair. He had a feeling he was going to need more freedom of movement. “No doubt we’ll find out soon enough.” 

“Oh, no doubt.” 

He turned to survey the room, just catching sight of Satine tilting her head away. She’d been watching them. He felt a pang of guilt at the pain she was clearly feeling. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. 

He approached the guards by the door, telling them softly, “Be on the alert.” 

They both bowed their heads, tightening their grips on the staffs they wielded. 

Another shrill bleep from his comlink once again broke the atmosphere of the room. 

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin’s voice filtered through. “There’s assassin probes down here! One made it up the lift. I’ll try to hold the others here.” 

“Quickly!” Obi-Wan barked at the guards. “Secure the lifts.” He ignited his lightsaber, feeling it hum in his hand. 

The guards ran to the door, but the droid reached it first, forcing its way in. It was a bizarre-looking spidery thing, almost as tall as Obi-Wan, covered in sinister red lights. It made harsh mechanical chirps as it moved. It knocked him aside before he could swing his blade, sending the two guards into the wall, where they collapsed in an unconscious heap. 

The senators all backed away, looking various levels of frightened and shocked. Sabé moved towards them, firing shots at the droid. It dodged so fast that she barely made a hit. 

“Help!” blustered Orn Free Taa. 

The droid jumped up onto the table, advancing on the group. Sabé stood before them, brandishing her blaster, able to get off a couple of shots in the mere seconds the droid took to cross the table. Obi-Wan leapt up, extending his jump with the Force and landing on top of the droid. With a wide stroke, he cut off its legs, hopping down to stab it directly through the main scarlet ‘eye’ on its front. Finally, it was still. 

For a brief moment, at least. As they looked on with horrified eyes, it fell heavily off the table and dozens of miniature versions of the droid popped up from the holes in its back, swarming across the floor like insects. Orn Free Taa let out a scream and ran, dropping the joint of meat he’d been carrying. 

The others all backed away even further, but the droids were relentless. Sabé and Obi-Wan, the trained warriors, were the first to move, shooting and cutting their way through the tide. 

“What happens if they get to us?” Sabé yelled. 

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan replied, “and I have no wish to find out.” 

Together, they clustered around the duchess, constantly circling as the droids moved. To Obi-Wan’s surprise, Satine started blasting at them too, a tiny deactivator clutched in her hand. 

“Did you always carry a deactivator?” he asked her incredulously. 

“Just because I’m a pacifist doesn’t mean I won’t defend myself,” she shot back icily. 

A droid ran over the toe of Sabé’s boot and she kicked it away, skirt hindering her aim. Obi-Wan sliced it as it flew, cutting it neatly in two halves. The three of them circled again, Satine zapping what looked like the last droid. 

Silence fell and everyone took a collective sigh of relief. Miraculously, no one had been hurt. Sabé holstered her blaster, bending down to pick up one of the droids. Obi-Wan did likewise, examining it, trying to recall what it reminded him of. Then it hit him. 

“Just like that swarm of venom-mites on Draboon, remember?” he said to Satine, offering her a small smile that was part apology. 

She looked at him sternly, then her face softened a touch. “How could I forget? I still have the scar.” 

Obi-Wan frowned as the memory echoed through his mind. “Begging your pardon, Duchess, I distinctly remember carrying you to safety.” 

Satine wore an enigmatic smile as she turned and met his gaze. “I meant the scar I got after you fell and dropped me.” 

“Oh…” he said, realising that she was right, “yes.” 

Nearby, Sabé gave a quiet chuckle, raising her eyebrows in challenge. “Not very chivalrous, Kenobi,” she said. The brightness of her tone, although genuine, seemed a little forced, and he recognised that she too was trying to make peace in her own way, supporting Satine’s mild criticism of him. 

“It is a learned skill that takes practice,” he replied, dropping the droid. “I do hope Anakin hasn’t run into any of these.”

"He can handle it if he has," Sabé said sagely. 

"True, although I'd like to make sure."

The little droids that had been serving the food began running around tidying up the mess that the assassin had made of the tableware. 

Obi-Wan raised his comlink. "Anakin, do you copy?" 

"I'm just on my way up to you," his former Padawan said. "I've found something you're going to want to see."

Within a few moments, he appeared in the doorway. Obi-Wan went to meet him, out of earshot of the senators. Anakin handed him the cargo manifest, jabbing a finger to indicate the point of interest. 

“One of our four distinguished senators appears to be a traitor," Anakin declared. 

Obi-Wan surveyed the manifest, seeing the Senate stamp that authorised the crates the assassin droids had been shipped in. 

“I sense it too," he muttered. He had an idea he knew who, but he needed proof. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted one of the tiny droids scurrying away from the table, where it had clearly been hiding. “It looks like one of our little visitors is still alive. I have an idea how to expose the turncoat.” He handed the cargo manifest back to Anakin. “Return to the hull of the ship," he ordered. "Destroy the last assassin droids. I’ll find out which of the senators is the traitor.” 

Anakin nodded and left. Obi-Wan flung out a hand, pulling the droid towards him with the Force. He caught it neatly, gripping the main body while its legs wiggled furiously. 

"And what are you planning on doing with that?" Sabé asked him, one eyebrow raised. 

"You'll see," he told her. "I'll be back in a moment. Make sure nobody leaves this room." 

"Okay," she agreed, not questioning him, for which he was thankful. She always trusted that he knew what he was doing. 

He made a quick trip to the kitchens, putting the droid on a tray, a domed transparisteel dessert lid preventing it from escaping. He draped a cloth over it and made his way back upstairs. The team of host droids had managed to clear up the assassin droid corpses and set the table to rights, even going so far as to pile the dishes with more food to make up for what had ended up on the floor. The party was seated at the table once again, but only Orn Free Taa was eating. 

Taa's eyes lit up when he saw what Obi-Wan was carrying. “Ah, dessert! Excellent!” 

Sabé watched his progress appraisingly, no doubt having guessed what he was up to. 

“This morsel might prove too much, even for the legendary appetite of Orn Free Taa,” Obi-Wan speculated, removing the cloth. “Enjoy.” 

The droid tried to lunge for the Twi'lek senator, hitting itself against the glass repeatedly. 

Taa gasped. “On second thought, it wouldn’t agree with me.” 

“My theory is that our little friend will attack the duchess and anyone who defends her," Obi-Wan explained. "Anyone, that is, except the traitor who programmed it.” 

Taa cowered, whimpering. “Take it away! Please!” 

“Obi-Wan!" Satine bit out, her voice sharp as a whip crack. "This line of questioning borders on torture!” 

He thought that was a slight exaggeration. “Oh, I assure our pacifist duchess that all is under control," he soothed, circling the table, around Onaconda Farr. "I’m trying to expose a bigger threat."

Farr looked nervous, but said nothing, even as the droid tried to get to him from within its prison. Obi-Wan moved to Kin Robb, who sat beside him, unsurprised when the droid reacted in the same way. 

"Interesting," he mused aloud. "The droid displays unusual hostility towards the honourable Kin Robb." Finally, he passed behind Satine to stand in front of Merrik. The droid stopped thrashing and stood still. "But it seems to like you, Senator Merrik."

Merrik scoffed and looked away. “Really, General Kenobi,” he began, as if it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. Then, quick as a flash, he lunged, knocking the dish out of Obi-Wan's hands. “You’re quite clever!” 

The mini assassin flew in a wide arc, landing on the table. At once, it darted for Satine, who gasped and stumbled back out of her seat. Obi-Wan knocked it aside with the tray, and it landed on the protocol droid nearby. The droid went down with a heavy clang as the assassin dug its legs into its casing. Then, it jumped back onto the table before leaping towards Onaconda Farr. Sabé shot it out of the air before it could land, and it hit the carpet, smoking gently. 

In the confusion, Merrik made a grab for Satine, sending her ornate headdress tumbling off. He held a blaster to her head as she clutched at the arm he'd thrown around her neck. Sabé aimed her blaster, but hesitated. Merrik was standing too close to the duchess for her to get a clear shot. 

“You’re coming with me,” Merrik announced, dragging her backwards out of the room. 

Nobody dared move until he was out of sight, then Obi-Wan shot into action, sprinting after them, Sabé at his heels. 

"You should stay here," he yelled over his shoulder. 

"Not a chance," she replied firmly. 

Not wishing to waste time arguing with her, he raised his comlink. “Anakin, Tal Merrik is the traitor and he’s taken Satine hostage.”

“Copy that," Anakin answered with gritted teeth, sounding stressed, "but I’ve got problems of my own right now.” 

Realising he was in the middle of a stealthy pursuit of some kind, Obi-Wan cut the channel. Better Anakin give his foe his full attention. 

"He won't hurt her," Sabé called to him, "he needs her alive or he has no leverage." 

"I know." 

He ground to a halt, Sabé just managing to stop herself before she ploughed into the back of him. 

"Does he want to hide or take control?" he pondered. 

Sabé considered the question. "The fact that he's taken the duchess indicates that he doesn't feel he has control yet," she theorised.

Obi-Wan nodded, hearing the sense in her words. "So that's what he wants. So he'll head for the bridge. He can signal to his allies from there." 

She shrugged. "I would." 

"The question is, where is it?" 

"I have no idea." She bit her lip, looking grim. "But I promise you, I'll help you save the woman you love."

He studied her, a slight frown on his face. "She's not... I mean, there has been..." He trailed off with a sigh. "Oh, it will keep. Let's go." 

There was a brief moment in which he took in her confused expression, then they took off running again, winding their way through the corridors. Eventually, they stumbled upon Anakin approaching from the opposite side. 

“Did you find them?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“No, but I’ve stationed troopers at every escape pod.”

"Good thinking," he praised. "We believe he'll make his way to the bridge, we have to find him." 

"This way," Anakin said, heading off towards the turbolift. 

They all piled inside and the doors closed. 

“This may not be the time to ask," ventured Anakin, "but were you and Satine ever…” 

“I don’t see how that has any bearing on the situation at hand,” Obi-Wan growled. 

There came a jerk as the ship dropped out of hyperspace, and they exchanged concerned glances. 

“That can’t be good,” Sabé commented. 

The ship juddered again, making them all stumble. 

“That’s something hitting the hull,” Obi-Wan said grimly. 

The elevator stopped, the doors sliding open, revealing a corridor full of clone troopers, all of them running towards the noise. 

“What’s going on?” Anakin asked them. 

“Hull breach, sir,” one of them called. “There are battle droids aboard.” 

“Well there’s a confirmation we didn’t need,” Obi-Wan remarked, feeling no satisfaction that his theory about Death Watch’s support was correct. 

“I’ll take care of this, Obi-Wan," Anakin declared, pulling his lightsaber. "You go and find your girlfriend.” He dashed after the clones. 

"No, Anakin, she’s not my…” But his friend had already disappeared. Obi-Wan sighed, turning away in time to catch Sabé's smirk. "It's not funny."

"It's a little funny," she amended. 

Recognising where they were, Obi-Wan led them down the corridor, lightsaber ignited, finally bursting through the door to the bridge. The crew were dead, their bodies strewn across their work stations. Merrik was there, his expression looking particularly supercilious. 

“Come in, Kenobi, you’re expected.”

Sabé stepped in beside him, blaster levelled at Merrik's head, although she didn't dare attempt to shoot. 

"Oh," Merrik added, sneering at her, "two Kenobis for the price of one. Or do you not count under this arrangement of yours?"

“Tal Merrik, you are under arrest," Obi-Wan stated firmly, ignoring him. "Release the duchess.” 

Merrik looked unimpressed. “Hmm. I took the precaution of wiring the ship’s engines to explode. I press this remote and we all die.” He showed them the small switch he was holding. 

“Obi," Satine spoke out, the fear evident in her voice, "if you have any respect for me, you will not take such risks with so many people’s lives at stake.” 

“Satine. Don’t.” There was a way to get through this with no casualties. There was always a way. 

Merrik manoeuvred her to the door, and Obi-Wan and Sabé had no choice but to let him pass, mindful of the remote in his hand. He stalked backwards through the corridors as they followed, weapons drawn but useless. 

“This is Merrik," he said into his comlink. "Stand by to disengage.” He stopped next to one of the devices that had pierced the hull and let the battle droids on board, unable to go any further while he still held Satine. “Say farewell, Duchess.” 

Satine's face was an open book of emotions. Disgust, fear, embarrassment, desperation. She managed to school it into an expression of determination. “Obi-Wan, it looks like I may never see you again," she began, her voice shaking and slightly awkward. "I don’t know quite how to say this, but…I’ve loved you from the moment you came to my aid all those years ago.”

“I don’t believe this,” Merrik muttered, looking repulsed.

Obi-Wan almost couldn't believe it himself. For her to speak so unguardedly in front of others, she must truly fear for her life. “Satine, this is hardly the time or place for–” 

She looked so stricken that his words trailed off. _She needs reassurance_ , he realised. _But I can't lie to her and tell her more than I feel._

“All right," he muttered, almost to himself. 

Beside him, Sabé suddenly stiffened, although he had no time to dwell on it. Satine was still staring pleadingly at him. 

_Tell her something, anything_. He selected a long-ago truth, one that she had never known. "Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order.” 

In his peripheral vision, he saw Sabé send him a puzzled look. Perhaps she had been expecting him to say something more demonstrative. Satine’s expression was too brief to read, turning to a glare at Merrik’s next words. 

“That is touching," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Truly it is. But it’s making me sick, and we really must be going.” 

“You have the romantic soul of a slug, Merrik!” Satine cried out. 

In a burst of movement, she jabbed her heel into his foot, whirled away and stole his blaster, aiming it with trembling hands. 

“And slugs are so often trod upon,” she spat. 

Merrik seemed almost amused. “Interesting turnabout. But even if I do not deliver the duchess alive to the Separatists I still win. The second I’m away I’ll hit the remote and blow the _Coronet_ to bits.”

“I will not allow that,” Satine declared. 

“What will you do?" Merrik asked her mockingly. "If you shoot me, you prove yourself a hypocrite to every pacifist ideal you hold dear. And you, Kenobi, you are no stranger to violence. You’d be hailed as a hero by everyone on this ship." He sent a sly glance the duchess's way. "Almost everyone. Come on then. Who will strike first and brand themselves a cold-blooded killer?” 

"You forget, _I_ have no such problem," Sabé said, her blaster levelled at his chest. “Give me the remote.” 

“If you really wanted it, you’d have fired by now,” Merrik said lazily. 

“Oh, I have no qualms about ending one life to save many, especially yours,” Sabé told him casually, “but I was always taught to give fair warning.” 

“Then let me give _you_ fair warning,” he jeered. “You have about three seconds to make your choice before I, and this remote, are gone.” 

Merrik jerked as a bright blue blade appeared through his chest. He dropped the remote and Anakin swiftly caught it. 

Satine threw the blaster aside in disgust. 

Obi-Wan looked at his former Padawan and gave a heavy sigh. “Anakin…”

“What? He was going to blow up the ship.” 

The worst part was, he was right. So was Sabé. One life to save many was the right solution here, and yet he’d hesitated. Solemn, he powered off his lightsaber, returning it to his belt.

_How much did Anakin hear?_ he wondered.

Sabé holstered her blaster, sending him an unreadable glance, then turned away as Satine approached him. He could not help feeling tense as he looked at her, taking in the earnest expression on her porcelain face. 

“Obi-Wan,” she breathed, eyes wide and hopeful, “I…”

“General Skywalker,” said Cody, marching up to Anakin, “the last of the droids have been defeated, sir.” 

“Very good, Cody.” 

The duchess seemed to find herself dragged back to reality by the arrival of the clones. Her walls shot up, her face suddenly closed off. “I must get back to the business of diplomacy,” she announced, turning her back on him and walking away, ducking under the wreckage that was blocking half the corridor. 

“As you say, Duchess,” he muttered, bowing even though she could not see it. 

“Cody,” said Anakin, “do we have any troopers who can help me fly this ship?”

“I’m sure we can find some, sir. I’ll speak to Captain Rex and send you some men.” Cody walked off, his fellow soldiers by his side. 

“ _You’re_ going to fly the ship back to Coruscant?” Obi-Wan asked his friend, amused. 

“Sure,” Anakin confirmed, shrugging. “I’m the best pilot we have on board.” 

Obi-Wan conceded the point. “You’re probably right.”

“I’ll get on it now. You’d better make sure the senators are okay.” 

“Yes,” he agreed. “Sabé and I will head back there now. See you later.” 

They parted ways, he and Sabé trailing after the duchess. He noted how quiet she was, pondering the reasons why. But then she spoke up. 

“So…Obi?” There was no mockery in her voice, simply curiosity. 

He nodded. “Mm. She always did call me that. I was never sure how I felt about it.” 

Sabé made a small, thoughtful sound. “Back there… You…didn’t tell her… I mean, you never…”

“No, I didn’t,” he said softly. 

She didn’t ask why, as if she was picking up on how tired he suddenly felt, how much he didn’t want to have that conversation. He didn’t want to think about what the next few days might bring. He reached out for the Force, feeling it flow through him, soothing his worries, bringing him confidence in his own judgement. Whatever they brought, he’d get through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I was going to have Sabé dispatch Merrik, but then I realised I couldn't deprive Anakin of one of his most memorable lines!


	17. A Fight For Neutrality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Once more, some dialogue was taken from Clone Wars, although I think I tweaked things here and there. I can't remember. It's been a while since I wrote this chapter initially.

**Chapter Seventeen – A Fight for Neutrality.**

 

There was quite a welcome party for the passengers of the _Coronet_ once they reached Coruscant. Chancellor Palpatine was there to greet his senators, able to find time to throw a word of praise to Anakin for his skilful piloting of the ship. Padmé, too, was waiting, there to welcome Sabé, Obi-Wan and Anakin, and to offer an invitation of dinner to Duchess Satine. This, Satine received with glad surprise, accepting with a tired smile and a few intrigued, surreptitious glances between Padmé and Sabé, no doubt noting their resemblance. Padmé extended the invitation to the others, but Obi-Wan refused on grounds of needing to speak to the Jedi Council, which led to Anakin also feeling obliged to refuse, although he did not look happy about it. 

Sabé was off duty until the following day, and she was looking forward to a quiet evening at the apartment. She spent most of it deep in thought, reliving everything that had happened over the past two days, trying to figure out what was going on with Obi-Wan, who had not reacted as she’d expected during Satine’s kidnapping on the ship. She didn’t speak of any of it when he got back from the Temple. There would be time for that when the trouble was over. Instead, they talked about the latest two Order of Sanctuary deaths, a matter that there had been no time to bring up earlier in the day. Obi-Wan agreed to push the Council for more decisive action, a solution that Sabé was forced to be content with. 

In the morning, they headed over to Padmé’s apartment, where the senator was preparing to attend the session that Satine would be speaking at. As she helped Padmé with her hair, Sabé asked her how dinner had gone. Padmé was keen to befriend Satine, having been made aware of their similar outlooks, not to mention the fact that the duchess seemed to need friends on Coruscant. Padmé reported that it had gone well, seeming pleased to have laid the foundations of a genuine friendship with a kindred spirit. 

When Padmé was ready, garbed in formal dark blue robes and a basket-like headdress, her retinue departed for the Senate. Obi-Wan remained discreetly behind the Naboo pod, but Gregar took a seat to Padmé’s left, leaving the right-hand bench for Sabé and Moteé, both swathed in purple velvet cloaks, their hoods covering their hair. 

After the usual greetings and updates, Chancellor Palpatine brought up the topic of Mandalore. 

“As you are no doubt aware,” he was saying, his voice echoing around the huge arena, “Mandalore is one of many systems that have chosen to remain neutral in the war. We have respected that decision. We respect it still. However, it seems that Mandalore’s peace is now threatened by a terrorist movement called Death Watch.” He paused, seemingly to let the statement sink in and have the most impact. “Up until now, we have trusted Mandalore’s authorities to deal with this dangerous group, but just last week a Death Watch warrior sabotaged a Republic vessel.” 

An angry murmur rippled around the room and Palpatine nodded in accordance. 

“This isn’t off to the best start,” Sabé hissed to Moteé, who murmured her agreement. 

“That was an isolated incident designed to attract this sort of attention,” Duchess Satine spoke up, moving her pod towards the centre. 

“The chair recognises Duchess Satine of Mandalore,” announced Mas Amedda, Chancellor Palpatine’s Chagrian aide. 

“I respectfully ask how you know it was an isolated incident,” Palpatine said, his voice conveying the respect he mentioned but a steely edge too. “It grieves me to say it,” he went on, “but Death Watch is now a significant, deadly threat. 

“Mandalore is making great strides to find the leaders of this terrorist movement,” Satine assured him. “They are not powerful enough to destabilise our government. We _will_ resolve this without conflict. If the Republic gets involved in our affairs, it will only lead to further violence. Thus I shall reassert our position of neutrality.” 

“Talk of an idealist,” Mas Amedda put in lazily. 

Satine shook her head. “No, those are the words of a pacifist and a people who have chosen non-violent action.”

“She’s not going to persuade them,” Padmé whispered to Gregar, her voice saddened.

Sabé threw a look back at Obi-Wan, who was standing with his chin in his hand, a frown marring his brow. 

“That may be so, Duchess” Palpatine was saying, “however, this message was delivered to my staff just this morning. I think you shall find it most illuminating.” 

Mas Amedda inserted a chip into the holo reader and immediately a huge hologram materialised in the centre of the arena. Additional smaller versions hovered over the control panel of every pod. 

“The actions of our government have taken us into a period of civil war,” the man in the recording said. “To acknowledge it would be to invite panic in the streets, and so we hid the truth from our people.”

“She looks distressed,” Padmé murmured, watching Satine. She stood up and flew the Naboo pod down to hover next to the duchess’s.

“Duchess, do you know this man?” she called over. 

“Yes,” Satine replied, her face showing confusion and hurt. “Deputy Minister Jerec. He’s a dear friend.” 

“It is more than mere possibility,” the recording boomed, “more than eventuality. It is here.”

“Stop!” Satine yelled, and Amedda paused the hologram. “Deputy Minister Jerec is an honourable man. He would never commit such lies to the record. The Mandalorian government holds no secrets from its people.” 

“If only that were true,” Chancellor Palpatine sighed. 

The recording started up again. “Death Watch is far stronger than we once thought. If we are to combat them effectively, we must have Republic assistance. Instead, this government acts out of pride and refuses the help of the Jedi.” 

“It’s not true,” Satine cried. “It’s not true!” 

Sabé felt a pang of sympathy for her. She seemed just as shocked as the rest of them. 

“The Duchess Satine will ultimately cause our defeat,” Jerec declared. “Make no mistake, Republic intervention is absolutely necessary.” The recording ended, his image disappearing. 

“This isn’t right,” the duchess protested. “Something here isn’t right. I wish to speak to Jerec immediately.” 

“Sadly, Deputy Minister Jerec perished this morning in a Death Watch bombing on Kalevala,” Palpatine reported. “Let us ensure that his death was not in vain. Let us commit our military might into defending the Mandalorian people.”

Clearly fuelled by grief and anger, Satine spat out, “Defending? You mean to occupy our home! You would trample our right to self-determination.”

“We mean to save your people.”

“You will turn our planet into a military target, which will bring the war to us. Mandalore _must_ remain a neutral system,” Satine stressed. 

Sabé was no politician, but it didn’t look to her as if the duchess’s passionate words were having the slightest effect.

“The vote shall commence in the next session,” Chancellor Palpatine decided. 

Satine flew her pod back to its spot so fast, Sabé was afraid it might crash. Padmé returned the Naboo pod, and the group filed out. 

“Will you be all right for a short while?” Obi-Wan said to Sabé. 

Reading his expression, she nodded. “Go and talk to her. I’ll be fine.” 

He gave her a grateful smile, then hurried away to catch Satine up. The rest of them made their way along the corridor at a more leisurely pace, joining the throng of exiting senators. Padmé struck up conversation with Mon Mothma, and Gregar dropped back a step to give them privacy, walking beside Sabé. 

“How’s things?” he asked.

Sabé shrugged. “Same old. You?”

“Yep, same.” There was a pause, then he added, “Was I any more convincing than you?”

“Nope.”

“Figured.” 

They exchanged smiles. 

“Have you seen your parents yet?” Gregar queried. 

“No. I was too exhausted last night after we got back. Also…” She left the sentence hanging. She hadn’t seen her parents since she’d gone to them to tell them that she and Obi-Wan were married. She’d seen Idriel once, to congratulate her on the birth of her son, Corin, but had steered clear of Jago and Luma’s apartment. 

Gregar nodded understandingly. “I know. But you can’t avoid them forever.”

Sabé pouted. “That’s what Obi-Wan says.” 

“Speaking of Obi-Wan,” he began.

“You’re going to ask about the duchess,” Sabé surmised. “I promise you this isn’t personal, Gregar, but I’m just too tired to go into all of that right now.” 

He looked surprised, but accepted it placidly. “Okay. Guess it’s a bigger question than I thought.” 

“Yes. And everything right now is about the duchess,” she huffed, a little bitterly. “We’ve barely had time to talk about the latest Order hits.” 

“You will,” he assured her confidently. “Obi-Wan isn’t the kind of man to ignore things. You know that.”

Sabé thought about where he was right now, nearly laughing. “Oh, I know it.” 

Ahead, Padmé parted ways with Mon Mothma, leading her party to the spacious office she was assigned. It was where she did the bulk of her work when she was not at the apartment. See-Threepio was waiting there, and Padmé sent him to order lunch for them all. Sabé and Moteé busied themselves with tidying Padmé’s desk, making sure she’d have space to eat. Gregar stood outside the door, reaching for his comlink to check in with the officers he’d posted outside the building. 

Presently, Obi-Wan joined them, looking rather stern. Clearly the conversation with Satine had gone as well as the others. Threepio arrived back, wheeling a stack of trays with covered dishes. The group settled into lunch, Padmé at her desk, the others on the various chairs she kept in the office. Nobody spoke much, aware that both Padmé and Obi-Wan were deep in thought about the duchess’s case. 

Just as they were finishing up, they became aware of a rush of movement in the corridor outside. Sabé was considering going to find out what was going on, when a message flashed up on Padmé’s data pad calling all senators back into session. Confused, Padmé cleared it and stood up, lying her unfinished meal aside. 

“Moteé,” she said, “please go and find out why they’ve summoned me back so soon. I’ll gather my things and head to the pod.”

Moteé nodded and left the room. Sabé quickly gathered the plates and put them back on Threepio’s tray, while Padmé located her notes and slipped on the shoes that she’d kicked off under her desk. Moteé came back just as they were locking the office. 

“Nobody knows what the session is for,” she reported, slightly out of breath, “but it seems that Duchess Satine has had an accident, some kind of attempt on her life.”

Sabé saw Obi-Wan’s posture stiffen, his expression turning grim. 

“She’s not hurt,” Moteé went on, “but she’s apparently come back to talk to Chancellor Palpatine.” 

“I must go and see if she’s all right,” Obi-Wan declared. 

Sabé nodded, having anticipated it, and said, “You know where we’ll be.”

“Yes. Excuse me, Senator.” 

Padmé waved him off, leading them towards the Naboo pod as he turned and walked swiftly away down the corridor. 

Sabé’s heart twisted painfully in her chest as she watched him go. She’d expected him to want to check up on Satine. She even understood it, she knew what a vulnerable position the duchess was in, but still she could not help feeling a tiny bit resentful at the way he kept rushing off. 

They all sat for a while in the pod, waiting for all the senators to return to the arena. Chancellor Palpatine and Mas Amedda were both absent, their place instead occupied by Sly Moore, the Chancellor’s Umbaran aide. She was a woman of few words, whose piercing white stare had a way of unnerving people. She wore a high-collared grey cloak that showed only her hairless pale head. Her expression was one of boredom, but that was nothing new. After ten minutes or so, she got to her feet, holding up a hand for silence. The murmur of voices quietened. 

“I regret to inform you,” she began, her Basic heavily accented, her voice low and commanding, “that Duchess Satine has been involved in an airspeeder incident that was almost certainly an attempt on her life.”

A ripple spread throughout the arena as senators declared their anger and shock. 

“She is unharmed, but the incident took the life of her pilot,” Sly Moore went on. “She is in a meeting with the Chancellor as we speak, where he is attempting to persuade her that Republic intervention is unquestionably necessary. This latest attack is proof that Death Watch is out of control. A decision must be reached as to our actions, and so the Chancellor thought it prudent to bring the vote forward to today rather than wait until tomorrow.” She brought her hands together, saying gravely, “Senators, please cast your votes and decide the fate of Mandalore.”

Sabé frowned at her inflammatory words, watching as Padmé firmly voted in the negative. Sly Moore was looking down at her console as the results came in. Within seconds the final figures appeared on everyone’s screens. Sabé craned her neck to look at Padmé’s panel, pressing her lips tightly together as she read it. 

“It is decided,” Sly Moore announced, no hint as to her personal opinion in her voice. “We will send troopers to Mandalore and help them deal with this threat. A squadron will be deployed at sunrise.”

Sabé watched Padmé bow her head, her shoulders tense. She sighed and got to her feet. Sabé, Moteé and Gregar stood too. 

“Now what?” Sabé asked her. 

“We find the duchess,” Padmé said decisively. “I can break the news to her. She’s not going to be happy.” 

Sabé silently agreed, feeling that it was a slight understatement. 

They walked the busy corridors to Chancellor Palpatine’s office. As they rounded the curve, they saw Obi-Wan and Satine ahead having a heated discussion, the Jedi’s hands on the duchess’s shoulders. 

“Don’t you see?” he was saying. “You need your friends with you, not held at arm’s length.”

Padmé halted, apparently feeling a little awkward at intruding, and the rest of them stopped behind her. Sabé glanced away from the scene. 

Obi-Wan hadn’t noticed them yet, asking Satine, “In your quest to be self-reliant have you decided to cut your friends out of your life?” 

“I…I don’t know,” the duchess faltered. 

Fortunately, Obi-Wan spotted them, letting go of her. “Senator,” he said. “What is it?” 

Padmé stepped forward. “The Senate completed its vote,” she told them gently. “They’ve decided in favour of occupation.”

Satine looked at her aghast. “When did this happen? The vote was supposed to be tomorrow!” 

“It was during your meeting with the Chancellor,” Padmé explained. “Your accident accelerated the Senate’s decision. Republic forces are set to leave for Mandalore at sunrise tomorrow.”

Face openly shocked, Satine walked past them, away from Obi-Wan. Turning, she threw back, “You see? I was right before. Counting on the Republic is a mistake.”

With that, she continued on, her guards at her back, leaving a frowning Jedi in her wake. Padmé glanced up at him apologetically. 

“I thought it might be easier coming from me,” she admitted. 

“In time, I think she will come to appreciate that,” Obi-Wan told her with a weary sigh. 

“Where is she going?”

“To the Ministry of Intelligence. She says she has a contact there.” 

“I hope she finds what she’s looking for,” Padmé said with heartfelt empathy. “I think she’s headed for a future she won’t much like.” 

Obi-Wan gave a nod of agreement. His eyes sought Sabé’s, and she tried not to look as gloomy as she felt. It was not his fault, after all. She was the one whose feelings had changed. 

They headed back to Padmé’s apartment, where Sabé worked out the rest of her shift before returning home with Obi-Wan. Despite the drama of the first half of the day, the afternoon was uneventful, but she sensed that Obi-Wan was constantly on edge, as if waiting for news of Satine. It was no different once they got back to their safe-house. It was Obi-Wan’s turn to make dinner, but he looked so distracted that Sabé offered to take over. 

“No,” he replied at once, turning to her with a look of surprise. “Thank you, I’m fine.” 

“Really?” she said sceptically, leaning back against the cooler and folding her arms. 

“Yes.” He absently stirred the pot of stew he was heating. “I just…I can’t help but wonder…”

“What Duchess Satine is up to?” Sabé finished for him. 

“She must have a solid reason for going to the Ministry of Intelligence,” he told her. “I believe she thinks that there was something wrong with the recording of her Deputy Minister.” 

“Isn’t it more likely that he was cut from the same cloth as Vizsla and Merrik? She would have said the same about them once, if they had given a similar speech.” 

Obi-Wan accepted her point with a little sideways tilt of his head. “That’s true. But…she seems so sure this time.” 

“Has she said so?” Sabé asked curiously. She’d tried not to think too hard about what they might have spoken about when they were alone. 

“No,” he admitted, taking the stew off the heat and searching for plates. “It’s just something I sense in her.” 

Sabé moved to fetch cutlery. “If she needs help, won’t she ask for it?” 

“I’m not sure any more,” Obi-Wan said wearily, spooning out two portions of food. “She’s still quite upset. I believe she’s angry with me.” He shrugged, but Sabé could tell it was bothering him.

“She may be angry, but I’m sure she still trusts you. You’ve made it quite clear that our circumstances don’t affect your need to protect her. Or anyone who needs your help,” she added hastily, concerned that she sounded too embittered.

Dinner in hand, they moved to sit down, and Obi-Wan said, “If she’s trying to prove something to influence the Senate’s decision, she’s working to a strict time limit. I’m worried that it will make her…reckless.”

“And I guess, as a Jedi, it may be difficult for you to be involved too,” Sabé theorised. 

“Yes, that had occurred to me as well.” 

They fell into a bout of silence, each eating their dinner, which was pleasant despite Obi-Wan’s distraction, and thinking about their troubles. Sabé was worried about the Order of Sanctuary case, but she knew that Obi-Wan’s attention would not be on it until Satine was back on Mandalore.

“Do you think–” Obi-Wan began, but the beep of his comlink cut his speech off. He pulled his holo projector from a pouch on his belt and activated it. The imposing figure of Mas Amedda materialised.

“Good evening, Master Kenobi,” he said, polite but stern. 

“Good evening,” Obi-Wan replied, managing to keep his obvious surprise to a minimum. 

“Forgive the intrusion, but I’m obliged to ask you if you have seen Duchess Satine since she left the Senate this afternoon.” 

Eyebrows raised, he answered truthfully, “No, I’m afraid I haven’t. Why?”

“She is wanted in connection to the death of a Ministry of Intelligence employee,” Amedda reported, sounding almost blasé.

Sabé’s eyes widened, and Obi-Wan breathed, “What?” 

“If you happen to see her, please ensure that she turns herself in for questioning.” 

“Of course,” Obi-Wan answered, and Amedda’s image vanished. 

Sabé was stunned, watching Obi-Wan’s confusion from across the table. He ran a hand through his hair, frowning. 

“That must have been her contact,” he surmised. “Death Watch probably eliminated them, whoever it was.”

“But was it before or after they passed information to her?” Sabé asked rhetorically. “I don’t understand this at all. It appears that Death Watch _want_ the Republic to come to Mandalore, but why? What would they gain from that?” 

“I don’t know, but no doubt they’ve thought it through at length. Count Dooku has a feel for elaborate plans.” 

Sabé bit her lip in thought, propping one foot on her seat so she could rest her chin on her knee. “You think she’s in trouble, don’t you?” she speculated, studying his expression. 

He nodded, meeting her gaze. “I do.” 

Sabé opened her mouth to say something reassuring, but his comlink beeped again. This time, it was Satine’s cloaked figure that appeared. 

“Obi-Wan, come in,” she hissed in a rush. “Obi-Wan, are you there?” 

“Satine!” he greeted. “Where are you? Mas Amedda has demanded you turn yourself in.” 

“I know,” she said grimly. “Listen to me. Obi-Wan, I need your help.” 

“Of course. What can I do?”

“I need you to come and meet me. Somewhere discreet.”

“Where?” Obi-Wan asked at once. 

“I’m in Sector GL5,” she told him. 

“That’s near the entertainment district,” Obi-Wan mused. “There’s a busy square in the centre where you should be able to blend in.” 

Satine’s figure looked upwards, and Sabé realised she was reading the signposts. 

“I see it,” she said. “I’ll head there.”

“I’m on my way,” Obi-Wan told her. “Stay out of sight until I get there.” 

“All right. Please hurry.” She disappeared. 

Obi-Wan was already moving, retrieving his robe from the back of the sofa. “Stay here. I’ll be as quick as I can.” 

“I’ll come with you,” Sabé stated. 

“No,” he said, shrugging into the robe. “You’ll be safer here. It’s better that you don’t go wandering about in the underworld at night.” 

“I won’t be wandering about, I’ll be with you.” 

“Sabé, please,” he entreated, gripping her shoulders with gentle hands. “Give me one less thing to worry about.” 

Caught in the earnestness of his gaze, she mutely nodded. 

“Thank you,” he said, managing a quick smile before letting her go and heading for the door. 

“If there’s anything I can do, please let me know,” she called after him. 

“I will.” He shot her a grateful look before raising his hood and departing.

Sabé stood where she was for a long moment afterward, wrestling with her dislike of being left behind. When she’d tamed it, she busied herself with clearing the remains of their meal. After that, she waited. There was no use trying to do anything else, her mind simply wouldn’t stay quiet. Sleep was absolutely out of the question. 

Eventually, hours later, her comlink demanded her attention and she pounced on it.

“Sabé?” Obi-Wan said, his image appearing to jog on the spot. “Are you awake?”

“As if I could sleep,” she scoffed. “What do you need?” 

“Contact Padmé. I need her to call an emergency session of the Senate.” 

Sabé looked down at his avatar, taken aback. “Obi-Wan, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Yes, I know, but it’s important. We have the real recording from Minister Jerec, but Death Watch are trying to stop us, and the Republic is after Satine.” 

“All right,” she assured him. “I’m on it. But knowing the Senate, it will be at least an hour before they’ll be ready to see anything.” 

“We can stall for an hour, no problem,” he said. 

“Good luck,” she offered, signing off. Knowing that Padmé had no com device in her room, she called Gregar instead. 

“Typho,” he answered after a moment, looking as groggy as he sounded. 

“Gregar, it’s Sabé,” she specified, despite the fact that he could see her. 

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” he grumbled. 

Inwardly smiling at the words, she nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. I need you to go and wake Padmé.”

“Why, what’s wrong?” he asked, instantly more alert. He sat up a little straighter, rubbing sleep out of his single eye. 

“Long story, I’ll explain later, but I need her to call an emergency session of the Senate. There’s urgent new evidence about Mandalore’s neutrality.” 

He groaned, but he was already moving out of bed. “Okay. I’m on it.” 

“I’ll meet you at the Senate building,” Sabé said. “Thanks, Gregar.” She signed off. 

Donning boots and a hooded cloak, she left the apartment. No doubt they would all question her wisdom of venturing out alone, but the waiting around was killing her. She’d rather take her chances on the streets. 

She walked briskly to the Senate, the depths of her hood shading her face. She didn’t feel that she had anything to fear though. Senator Daedrin would have to convene with the others, after all. 

The night air was crisp and full of noise, the districts full of Coruscant’s nocturnal residents. She hung back near the entrance to the Senate, watching the steady trickle of sleepy-looking senators making their way in. In the time it had taken her to walk there, Padmé had spread the word. She smiled to herself.

Then a hand clamped down over her mouth and she felt herself tugged backwards into the shadows, her back against a firm chest. She struggled, but there came a rush of warm air by her ear and a familiar voice hissed, “It’s me.” 

Sabé stopped fighting, waiting for Obi-Wan to move his hand so she could ask him what the blazes he was doing. 

Then he whispered again, just one word of explanation. “Daedrin.” 

Pausing, Sabé looked back at where she’d been standing, spotting the senator from Axum walking dangerously close to it. He did not look happy, but neither did most of the other senators making their way in. Obi-Wan lowered his hand, but maintained his grip on her upper arm. Together, they watched Daedrin’s progress towards the Senate. 

Then Sabé remembered where she was, how close Obi-Wan was standing. His warm presence at her back was comforting, even as it stirred old memories. Gently, reluctantly, she pulled away, turning to meet his gaze. 

“Thank you for that,” she said. 

“I thought it was too much to hope that you would stay put,” he replied with a sigh. 

She smiled apologetically, although she was not remotely sorry. “You need to get a recording into the Senate, but Duchess Satine will be arrested if she’s spotted. I’m the best person to smuggle it in,” she declared. 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Satine, emerging from the shadows. 

Sabé flicked her gaze towards her, surprised. She hadn’t noticed her there. 

“We have a plan for that,” Obi-Wan informed her. “Satine is going to turn herself in as a distraction so that I can sneak past the guards.”

“Okay,” Sabé countered, “but if you send me, you can stay here to protect her and she doesn’t have to be arrested at all. Padmé will take care of things once I give her the recording.” 

“How will you get it past the guards?” asked the duchess. “I was worried about Obi-Wan getting past them due to his association with me. They may stop you too seeing as you are…his wife.” She hesitated just barely over the words. 

“I know from experience, Duchess, people very rarely pay any attention to handmaidens.” 

Obi-Wan sighed but nodded, convinced. “All right.” He handed her a data chip, which she tucked into her sleeve. 

“When is the Senate session due to start?” Satine asked.

“Whenever all the senators are present,” Sabé replied, glancing back at the building’s main doors. There were still people arriving. “Have either of you seen Padmé?”

“Not yet,” Obi-Wan answered. “Could she have come in through the docks?” 

“Possibly. Let me find out.” 

After a quick call to Gregar to confirm their location, Sabé ran to the Senate building just in time to join him and Padmé at the base of the steps. 

“Where’s Moteé and Teckla?” she asked.

“I didn’t see any point in disturbing them,” Padmé told her. “Let’s get inside, then we’ll talk.” 

Their small group passed by the guards with no issues and made their way to the Naboo pod. Once they were seated and signed in, Sabé leaned forward to pass Padmé the data chip. 

“This is the real recording of Deputy Minister Jerec,” she said in a low voice. “The first one we saw was edited, most likely by someone high up. Satine’s contact in the Ministry of Intelligence got her this chip before Death Watch murdered him.” 

Padmé received the information with a grim look, all evidence of tiredness gone. She had thrown on a formal blue and gold gown, hiding her hair under an ornate headdress, and looked far more put-together than most people looked only an hour after being unexpectedly woken in the early hours of the morning. 

The hatch in the middle of the floor opened and the seat of the Supreme Chancellor rose up out of it, Palpatine and Mas Amedda sitting in it looking rather bewildered and mildly grumpy. Amedda checked his console, where his screen was telling him who had yet to check in. He gave a nod to the Chancellor, which Sabé took to mean that everyone was present. 

“My friends,” Palpatine began, “thank you for responding so promptly at such an unsociable hour. I have been led to believe that there is some urgent objection to the decision to send troops to Mandalore. The chair calls Senator Amidala of Naboo, who is the reason we are all here.” There was a subtle edge to his voice, as if he did not approve of Padmé's actions. No doubt he wanted his sleep. 

Padmé stood and activated the pod, flying it down to the centre. “Thank you, Chancellor. I apologise for calling everyone here, but there has been a crucial development in the case for Mandalore’s neutrality. I think this should cast new light on the so-called evidence we saw earlier,” she said, holding up the data chip before inserting it into the holo projector. 

Once again, Jerec’s image appeared around the room. “The actions by our government have taken us into a period of civil war,” his voice boomed. “To acknowledge it would be to invite panic in the streets. Death Watch is far stronger than we once thought, but we have been training for this. We can stop them. But if we are to combat them effectively, we must have the temerity to stand strong in the name of peace. And if we are to do so, we must reject any Republic assistance.”

There was a murmur of voices undercutting his words as the senators took in what they were hearing. 

 

“Instead, this government will act. It acts not out of pride, but for safety,” the recording went on. “Intervention by the Republic will inflame the opposition, and this is why our government rejects the help of the Jedi. We must listen to the Duchess Satine. If we do not, we will ultimately cause our defeat.” The holo gave a soft fizzle and then cut out. 

The cries of the senators began to rise in volume, their mood, if not their words, perfectly understandable. 

Chancellor Palpatine exchanged a glance with Mas Amedda, then raised his hand for silence. “Thank you, Senator Amidala, for bringing this to our attention. It is clear that Duchess Satine has been the victim of malicious framing. Since it appears that the Mandalorian government has been truthful with its people, I see no reason to force Republic assistance on them at this time. If, as they say, they have a plan to deal with Death Watch, then we will respect their neutrality and merely hope that they reconsider and join us at a later time.” 

A smattering of applause broke out at his words, and Padmé shot a triumphant smile back at Sabé. 

"Senator Amidala," the Chancellor went on, "if you could join me in my office, I would very much like to hear how this came about."

"Of course, Chancellor," Padmé acquiesced. 

"And tell Duchess Satine to come out from wherever she is hiding. She is no longer a suspect in the death of Davu Golec." 

Padmé nodded, returning the Naboo pod back to its space. Sabé was already reaching for her comlink, punching in Obi-Wan's frequency. 

"Sabé," he greeted. "What's going on?"

"We were successful," she told him with a smile. "The order to send troops to Mandalore has been cancelled. Chancellor Palpatine would like to speak to Duchess Satine. It's safe for her to come out now." 

"That's good news. We're on our way." 

By the time they had walked down to the Chancellor's office, Obi-Wan and Satine were waiting there. The duchess had lowered her hood, and was looking tired but pleased at the result of her quest for the truth. 

Mas Amedda waved them all inside, where Chancellor Palpatine was awaiting them, smiling genially. The first light of the sunrise was beginning to stain the sky outside the panoramic window, bathing the room in a rosy glow. The Chancellor offered chairs to Satine, Padmé and Obi-Wan, leaving Sabé and Gregar to stand behind. 

"Senator Amidala," he greeted, "thanks to you, the occupation of Mandalore is no longer necessary.”

Padmé bowed her head graciously, but said, “The person to thank is Duchess Satine. She found the proof.” 

“I require no thanks,” Satine spoke up. "Your respect for Mandalore's neutrality is thanks enough." 

The Chancellor turned to her, his expression a mixture of remorse and embarrassment. “Allow me to offer a most sincere apology on behalf of the entire Republic. I'm afraid we were all manipulated into believing that we were doing the right thing."

"I understand, Chancellor," Satine said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "It is all forgotten."

Sabé suspected that her words were for diplomacy's sake only. 

"As a token of good will," Palpatine added, "I would like to offer you an invitation to our annual gala, which will take place here in four days’ time." 

"Oh," Satine said, apparently taken aback. "Thank you, Supreme Chancellor, but I had expected to be back on Mandalore by that time." 

"Think it over. Your name will be on the guest list regardless." 

Satine nodded, smiling politely, but it was clear that her experience had left her wary of the Republic and its government. They still had no idea who had tampered with Jerec's speech. 

"Now," said Palpatine, "I would be fascinated to hear your story, Duchess. How did you know the recording was not genuine?" 

For the next fifteen minutes, Satine explained in hesitant tones, Padmé and Obi-Wan adding things here and there. The Chancellor sat behind his desk, hands clasped, reacting with predictable shock and amazement. 

"Well," he said when she fell silent, "I'm very glad that you got the real recording to us in time." 

"As am I, Chancellor," Satine commented sincerely.

"And now, I think it's time we all went home to rest," he declared, rising to his feet. The others all stood too. "I don't begrudge you summoning an emergency session, Senator Amidala," he went on, "but I'm afraid my bed is calling me. Please excuse an old man." 

The usual pleasantries and leave-takings were spoken, and the party left the Chancellor's office. As they made their way through the corridors, Satine and Obi-Wan walked a few paces behind everyone else, engaged in a quiet conversation. Sabé stared fixedly at the back of Padmé's head, determined not to dwell on the way Obi-Wan always seemed to be drawn to the duchess. 

_Like an addiction, almost_ , she thought. 

Gregar was a reassuring presence by her side, and Sabé wondered why she hadn't confessed her problems to him. He was probably the one person who'd completely understand how she was feeling. She guessed she was afraid. Speaking it aloud would make it real. She wasn't ready for that just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: That concludes Satine's first CW appearance, now with added Sabé angst! Next chapter, formal ball. Nothing could go wrong there, right?


	18. The Politics of the Ballroom

**Chapter Eighteen – The Politics of the Ballroom.**

 

Chancellor Palpatine's annual gala was the highlight of the year for many. An event designed to tick multiple boxes on his to-do list, it was his way of thanking the senators for their ongoing service, of wooing potential new allies for the Republic, of trying to persuade neutral systems to join, and of gaining new investors. It was a huge occasion, to which every member of every senatorial team was invited. That was how Sabé found herself preparing to attend an event that her parents were also going to. Since getting back from Mandalore, she'd managed to stay busy enough to avoid them for much of the time. 

In her room at the apartment, she twisted to look at the back of her dress in the mirror, struggling to fasten it up. It was a nightmare of a dress, fashioned from impractical flowing shimmersilk of burnt orange, with long, draping sleeves in light, transparent fabric, and a decorative band of velvet cinching the waist. It was low cut both at the front and the back, which made Sabé a little self-conscious, and there was nowhere to hide a weapon. Although she'd found a way around that, slipping a vibroblade into the low-heeled boots she was wearing. 

There came a soft knock on the door, then it slid aside. Obi-Wan stuck his head into the room. "Are you ready? We don't want to be late." 

"I wouldn't be late if it wasn't for this stupid dress," Sabé retorted grumpily. 

Smirking, he approached her, gripping her upper arms and turning her around. Wordlessly, he started doing up the fastenings that she couldn't reach. 

"Thanks," she mumbled, trying not to notice every time his hands brushed her skin. 

"You're welcome," he replied, his voice low, catching a little as he spoke. "You look nice."

"Thank you," she said again, grateful for the unexpected praise. "Uh...so do you." 

He caught her eye in the mirror, amused. "I look the same as I always do." 

Repressing a sudden grin, she shrugged. "Yes, I know." 

He laughed then, and so did she. "Smooth talker," he muttered. 

She'd intended it as a joke, but she meant it too. Hopefully he hadn't picked up on that part. 

"There," he said, moving away from her. 

"Thanks for that. Let me just get my cloak, then we'll go."

When they were both ready, they left to join the rest of Padmé's party at her apartment. The senator was a vision in a golden shade of yellow, her gown tastefully extravagant with a satin bodice and a skirt of layers of embroidered fabric. Moteé and Teckla wore dresses identical to Sabé's, but in deep crimson and muted pink respectively. When they stood together, the three of them resembled a Coruscant sunset, with Padmé as the sun leading the way. Gregar, of course, was still on duty, but wore the formal version of his uniform. 

"I feel underdressed," he commented to Obi-Wan, "don't you?"

"Oh, absolutely," the Jedi replied, deadpan. "I should have worn my good robe." 

"That's not your good robe?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Oh." Gregar feigned surprise. "Well, it's nice."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan replied solemnly. 

"Enough, you two," Sabé scolded them, because Padmé was struggling to contain her laughter. 

They departed for the Senate, where the event was being held in one of the huge halls on the building’s lower floors. Sabé was rather apprehensive for a multitude of reasons, all centring around who she knew would be in attendance and what that meant for her peace of mind. Senator Daedrin would be there, of course, and although she didn’t expect him to bother her with so many people around, she was deeply wary of him. Her parents, too, would be there, honoured as associates of Padmé’s. Sabé wasn’t sure what to expect from them, but she knew she would be annoyed by it regardless. Lastly, Duchess Satine would be there, having extended her stay at the behest of Prime Minister Almec. Sabé hadn’t seen her since the night of the emergency Senate session, but Obi-Wan had once or twice, drawn there by whatever magnetic force it was that tethered him to her. 

Padmé’s party was fashionably late, so the hall was already half full when they arrived. A highly-polished protocol droid took their cloaks, then announced them, and they began to circle the room, looking for people they knew. Padmé turned to them all, smiling. 

“Don’t feel that you have to stick with me all evening,” she told them. “If you want to mingle, do so. If you want to dance, dance. I’ll be perfectly fine.” 

“Thank you for the thought, M’lady,” spoke up Gregar at once, “but I will stay with you, if you don’t mind.” 

Padmé met his gaze, her features softening into a grateful smile. “As you wish,” she said simply. 

Sabé withheld a wistful smile, not wanting to draw attention to their interaction, which was reminding her, in a bittersweet way, of how things had once been between them. Moteé and Teckla did not seem to notice anything, both nodding in acceptance of Padmé’s offer, but Obi-Wan caught her eye knowingly. 

They'd been circulating for about half an hour when Sabé caught sight of the duchess. She was chatting amiably with Onaconda Farr, dressed in a stunning lace gown of glacial blue and white, her pale hair held back with a simple diadem. Obi-Wan spotted her too, and Sabé watched him take in the sight, his expression strangely thoughtful. 

"Master Kenobi," came a voice from behind them, shattering the moment. 

Turning, Sabé saw Orn Free Taa, accompanied, as always, by his two lithe female aides. 

"Good evening, Senator," Obi-Wan greeted him. 

"Good evening! I just wanted to thank you once again for your quick actions on board the _Coronet_. When I think of what might have happened..." He trailed off, shuddering dramatically. 

"It's no problem at all," Obi-Wan assured him, smiling politely. 

But it seemed the senator from Ryloth had more praise to give, raining it down on a slightly-embarrassed Obi-Wan while Sabé tried not to smirk. Then she caught sight of Duchess Satine trying to get her attention. Smiling apologetically to Obi-Wan, she walked over to her, wondering what she wanted. 

"Lady Sabé," Satine began, her tone cordial even though her face was unsmiling. "I was hoping to have a word with you." 

"Of course."

"I… I have been led to believe," she said carefully, "based on your reactions, that you know something of the history between…" Her eyes met Sabé's, completing the sentence silently for the sake of being overheard. 

Sabé nodded. "Yes, I…I know a little." She thought the duchess might be self-conscious if she was aware exactly _how_ much Sabé knew about what had occurred when Obi-Wan had been stationed on Mandalore. 

The duchess looked at her earnestly, as if what she was saying had been bothering her for some time. "I just want you to know that I bear you no ill will. Given the situation you were in, I might have done the same. And…he has no ties to me, not really." 

"Oh…" she said, caught off guard. “Um…thank you, but…that's not necessary. It isn't like a marriage, really. Not in the way you would think."

"Isn't it?" Satine asked, one eyebrow slanted challengingly. 

Sabé felt a traitorous blush sweep her cheeks. "He lives by the Jedi Code," she said, her voice in control even if her complexion wasn't cooperating. 

Satine glanced over towards the man they spoke of. "Does he?" she said, but it did not sound like a question. 

"And," Sabé added uncertainly, "…if you think he has no ties to you, then…with all due respect, I don’t think you’ve been looking properly." 

The duchess studied her with something that looked a lot like sympathy. "My dear, that man will only ever love the Jedi Order." 

"I'm not sure that's true," Sabé argued, sharing the conclusions she’d recently reached as courteously as she could. "I think he's somehow…found a way to balance his feelings and the Code."

"But his commitment to the Jedi…"

"Means that he'd never leave them, true. But…that doesn't stop him _feeling_. And yet…it hasn't led him astray." 

Satine stared at her, eyes narrowed broodingly. "I confess, I had not considered that." 

"I only say it because I see it, Duchess," Sabé told her gently. "I know that you have accepted…" She sighed, knowing Satine understood her future and how it was unlikely to contain a certain Jedi. "But at least you know that he's genuine." 

"I never doubted that he was genuine," Satine answered touchily. 

"That's not exactly what I meant. I just…don't want to speak for him," Sabé admitted. 

Satine's hard countenance softened a little. She looked briefly down at her skirt before meeting Sabé's gaze once more. "He cares for you a great deal." 

Wary, Sabé nodded. "He's the best friend I have." 

The duchess didn't reply right away, but her look implied that she saw through Sabé's words. "Your secret is safe with me," she said eventually. 

Sabé didn't speak, turning away to look out over the crowd. 

"May I ask a personal question?" Satine ventured, her tone openly inquisitive but not without sensitivity. 

"I suppose so," Sabé said, frowning a little, half dreading what the duchess might think to ask. 

"Your, uh… _opinion_ …of him…did it change after you married him or was it always there?" 

Feeling a sense of relief that it was nothing too intimate, Sabé considered. There was no point in denying it, especially to the one woman who knew exactly how she felt. "I… Truthfully, I don't know anymore. Maybe both? I didn't think I felt anything other than friendship when I asked him to help me, but in hindsight… I just don't know." She shrugged, helplessly inarticulate. "What I do know is this: he would never turn away from the Jedi, but if he did…it would be you he would turn to." She was certain of that. She'd given the matter a great deal of thought. 

"I'm not so sure," Satine murmured. 

Sabé shot her frown, wanting to ask her to elaborate, but then there came an exclamation that cut through her question. 

"Syrena!" 

Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes for a brief moment before looking in the direction of the voice. "Mother." 

Luma Simmonite, swathed from head to toe in midnight blue, her honey-blonde hair in an elegant upsweep, bustled up to her, smiling in a strange sort of approval. "Syrena, there you are," she said without preamble. "I was beginning to wonder if you were avoiding us, you know. You're looking well. What a beautiful dress." 

Sabé sent an apologetic look Satine's way, but the duchess seemed almost amused, turning away to snag a glass of wine from a passing serving droid. 

"Thank you, Mother. How are you?" 

"Very well. Busy. Your father seems to have disappeared, but I'm sure he'll turn up eventually." 

"Glad to hear it," Sabé commented. 

Behind Luma, Satine moved away to talk to Obi-Wan, who had finally escaped Orn Free Taa. Sabé watched her go, feeling a pang of jealousy at the way he smiled at her. Inwardly, she scolded herself. She hated feeling jealous, it was petty and unhelpful, and accentuated the fact that she had no control over her reactions. 

"Idriel and Jensen send their love," Luma was saying. "Corin is growing so fast, you wouldn't recognise him!" 

Sabé switched her attention back to the conversation. "Oh... Well, that happens," she said lamely. 

Luma tilted her head, scrutinising her. "You look tired," she decided. 

"I am tired," Sabé replied, thinking of all the times her overactive brain had kept her awake lately. 

"You know, you should get a job that's less demanding. And safer. That horrible business with our security…” 

"It's not the job, the job is fine," she said defensively, before realising that she didn't want to disclose the real reason. 

A short distance away, Obi-Wan was sharing some anecdote with Satine, and she was leaning in to listen, laughing. Sabé watched them, unable to look away from their smiling faces and the intimate glances they were exchanging. Her heart felt like a rock in her chest, heavy and cumbersome, a dull ache pressing on her lungs, making it hard to breathe. 

"Well," her mother rattled on, "you know what your father and I think. I won't repeat it here. Syrena? Are you listening?" 

Sabé blinked, turning to look at her. "Sorry, what?" 

Luma turned her gaze in the direction of the Jedi and the duchess. Her stern expression transformed into one of comprehension within seconds, and Sabé's stomach twisted as she waited for the barrage of questions and 'I told you so's. But then her mother did something she had never done: looked at her with compassion and understanding, saying gently, "Oh, my dear."

Sabé stared at her in shock for a moment, then, bizarrely, fought to keep herself from crying. Luma took her arm, marching her across the room and out onto the wide balcony. The cool night air was like a shot of caf, breaking Sabé out of the melancholy mood that had settled over her, allowing her to gain control of her emotions. 

"I'm all right," she assured her mother. 

"Yes, you look it," Luma said sardonically. Tone softening, she added, "I was afraid this might happen, although I didn't expect the involvement of the duchess." 

"It was my choice to make," Sabé muttered stubbornly, "and I stand by it." 

"Yes, of course you would. You're a Simmonite, however much you choose to throw your given name away." 

Sabé swallowed hard, fighting a sudden wave of guilt. She'd never thought of it that way before, always so proud of the name she had earned. She hadn't considered how her parents had felt about it. 

_Guess lack of consideration runs in the family._

"Your father thinks you were right," Luma went on, "and we were wrong."

Sabé turned to her, brow furrowed. "He does?" 

Luma sighed, resting her hands on the balcony railing, gazing out over the twinkling lights of the Senate district. "Perhaps he's right. Maybe we were...misguided to try and force you to marry Senator Daedrin."

"You think?" Sabé could not help scoffing. 

"To me, it seemed like he could offer you a good life," Luma said defensively. "Is it wrong of me to want that for you?"

"No, Mother, but it should be my choice," Sabé firmly stated. "And trust me when I say, I have dodged a blaster bolt where Daedrin is concerned. Perhaps literally," she added quietly. 

"What do you mean?" her mother asked with narrowed eyes.

"I shouldn't have said that. Forget it." 

"Does that seem likely?" 

She gave a humourless little laugh. "Probably not. Just...trust me on this one, Mother. You'll find out eventually." 

"And in the meantime?" Luma asked, turning to regard her. 

"In the meantime?" 

Her mother sighed deeply. "Syrena, stop being deliberately obtuse. Believe it or not, I do care that my youngest daughter is well on the way to getting her heart broken." 

Sabé fell silent, chastened. "I can handle it," she said at length. 

Luma studied her doubtfully. "I hope so." 

Well aware that she was unlikely to persuade her mother that she'd be fine, Sabé added, "If it makes you feel any better, Padmé has spoken to the council back home. They're considering a verdict and we're waiting to hear back from them. The law could be repealed soon. When that happens, the marriage will be annulled." 

"For your sake, I hope so. Even though it's probably not what you want. And quite frankly, he should be ashamed." 

"Please don't," she cut in quickly. "It's more complicated than you think. He's done nothing wrong." 

Luma looked sceptical, but nodded. In an unusual move, she put her arm around Sabé's shoulders in a one-handed hug. "You're a strong woman, Syrena," she said with a touch of awkwardness. "I'm proud of you." 

Sabé wasn't sure what to say to that, but her mother broke the moment almost immediately. 

"Now, I must try and find your father. Do you want to come?" 

"Um, no thanks," Sabé declined, sending her a small smile. "I'll be in shortly." 

Luma nodded, returning the smile, then swept away. 

Sabé remained at the balustrade, looking out over Coruscant’s lights. Even the Senate’s lower floors offered impressive views, although it was not what she would have called beautiful. She’d been spoiled by Naboo. 

_That’s the story of your life_ , a voice whispered in her head. _No other planet can compare to Naboo, no other man can compare to Obi-Wan…_

_I can handle it_ , she told herself firmly. _I must._

She stayed where she was for a few more minutes, until the night’s chill had her heading back inside to join the swarm of colourful guests. She had barely walked three steps from the balcony door when she was waylaid by Quaine Daedrin.

“Sabé,” he greeted with a thin-lipped smile, the room’s lighting throwing his features into sharp relief. 

“Senator,” she replied stoically. 

_Of course. Just to make my evening complete._

“How are you?” 

“Very popular, it seems,” she could not help saying. “And yourself?”

“Very well, thank you.” 

She met his gaze coolly. “Keeping busy in your spare time?” she asked, slipping an edge of insinuation into her words. Perhaps it was reckless, but the pace of the investigation was annoying her no end. 

Daedrin stared her down for a beat before replying, “I get by.” 

Sabé smiled insincerely. “I’m sure you do.” 

“I was wondering how you were coping,” he said conversationally, waving a hand, “considering the rumours that have been circulating recently.”

“I don’t know of any rumours,” she answered truthfully. She tended to avoid the gossipy parts of the HoloNet. 

Daedrin pasted on a look of disbelief. “No? About your husband and a certain Duchess of Mandalore.”

A cold ripple of alarm shot through her. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh. Really?” Then she laughed. “That’s ridiculous. Obi-Wan only went to Mandalore just recently. I went with him.”

“I believe that the story started some years ago,” he told her haughtily, “something inappropriate between the duchess and him.”

Sabé sent him a condescending smile. “If they started some years ago, I hardly think that makes them recent rumours, Senator. Excuse me.” She moved past him, gritting her teeth. 

“So there’s no truth at all?” Daedrin addressed her back.

Pausing, she turned, keeping her expression neutral. “None whatsoever. Do you really think Obi-Wan would still be part of the Jedi Order if there was?” 

An element of uncertainty crept onto his face, although she could tell she hadn’t convinced him. “Well,” he said after some consideration, “in that case, forgive my intervention. I only asked with your welfare in mind.”

“I have no doubt that you dedicate a lot of thought to my…welfare.” _In the hopes of proving a threat to it, most likely,_ she finished internally. 

She turned her back on him without waiting for a reply, weaving her way through the clusters of people. She hadn’t had high expectations for the evening, but she’d been hoping for something to prove her wrong. 

_So much for that._

***

Obi-Wan had watched Sabé slip away to talk to Satine, her smile amused yet apologetic as she left him with Orn Free Taa. He maintained his polite demeanour, of course, answering the senator's comments at the appropriate moments, but where he could, he also watched the two women, wondering what they were talking about. They struck a sharp contrast, so very different to each other. 

_Like fire and ice_ , he reflected. 

They triggered such diverse feelings within him. Or at least, _he_ considered them diverse. An outsider might say he felt very similarly for the two, but that wasn't possible. They were too distinctive, each unique, each strong in their own way. Of course, he wasn't supposed to be feeling _anything_ for either of them, but it was far too late for that mind-set. Years too late. And yet his world hadn't ended. More and more he was beginning to realise that the Jedi Code was just words. What mattered were actions, choices. Ideals. 

"...wouldn't you agree, Master Kenobi?" 

"Oh, absolutely," he said with a smile, not having the slightest idea what he was agreeing with. "I don't want to take up all of your time, Senator. Enjoy the rest of the evening." Bowing, he diplomatically left the animated Twi'lek alone with his attendants. 

It was not long before Satine glided up to him, her smile enhanced by a dash of shimmering make-up. "I believe he thinks you quite the hero," she said. 

"It certainly seems so. I always thought that would be Anakin’s territory!” 

She giggled, eyes bright with merriment. He studied her face, now as familiar to him as it had been seventeen years ago. Her smiles came more easily now that the worries about Republic intervention on Mandalore were over, but she would be going back to confront other challenges. Death Watch were still out there, their plans postponed, perhaps, but not forgotten. He was glad she had decided to stay, that they had this opportunity to spend time together. He needed it, he realised. Because this time, he needed to bid her a more lasting farewell. 

He hadn’t quite recognised it for what it was until that moment, but he immediately knew it was true. This time, it was goodbye. 

“Oh,” she murmured softly. “There’s a grave expression if ever I saw one.” There was a hint of comprehension on her face, as if she could read his thoughts. She was saddened, but unsurprised. “What I said on the _Coronet_ …”

“Satine…”

“No, let me finish,” she said, holding up a hand. The constant buzz of conversation around them rendered their words as private as if they were alone. “I… I realise what a difficult position I put you in, and I apologise.”

Obi-Wan shook his head adamantly. “You don’t have to apologise. It was a life or death situation. I’m aware that…some things have to be said, for peace of mind.” 

“Silences speak just as loudly,” she said pointedly. 

He sensed the hurt lying beneath the surface of her composure. She’d clung on to the memory of him for seventeen years, perhaps passed up opportunities for happiness, all the time knowing full well that he would never leave the Jedi Order. He’d done that to her. His ignorance. His selfishness. 

“I am… _so_ sorry, Satine,” he told her, the heartfelt weight of his guilt tainting the words. “I can never be what you need me to be.” 

She nodded sharply, blinking rather rapidly. “Yes, I…I know. I’ve probably always known.” 

“Make no mistake,” he went on, meeting her gaze earnestly, “I will always care a great deal for you.”

“But…goodbye?” she finished, trying to make it sound upbeat. It came out harshly far off the mark. 

He didn’t answer, looking at the floor with a heavy sigh. 

“Do you think I would feel the way I do if you were…well, any less yourself?” Satine went on, managing to smile. “We always know exactly what we’re letting ourselves in for. We do it anyway.” 

Obi-Wan glanced up, frowning at her choice of the word ‘we’. 

She took in his puzzlement with a secretive little look. “In some ways, Sabé’s reading you all wrong, you know,” she spoke up. “She seems convinced that…nothing has changed for you. Regarding me.” 

He took in the information with mild confusion. Sabé had been rather closed off to him in recent weeks. He hadn’t been aware of her opinion concerning his relationship with Satine, but looking back he could see how she had reached her conclusion. Satine’s troubles had affected him more than he’d intended. Then he remembered her words to him on board the _Coronet._

_“I’ll help you save the woman you love.”_

His mind went suddenly blank as he pieced it all together: Sabé’s preoccupation, her tightly-held control that had been shutting him out, her restless sleep patterns that her nocturnal footsteps had given away, her determination to throw herself into her job. It all seemed to make sense, but he couldn’t quite accept it. She’d never seemed as if her feelings were turning that way. How could it be that he hadn’t noticed? 

“She promised me,” he muttered, “she wouldn’t get too…involved.”

“You may not have this opinion of yourself, Obi-Wan, but you’re the kind of man that can make a woman forget a promise of that sort.” 

He at once opened his mouth to deny it, but Satine interrupted him. 

"You never were very good at recognising when people care for you," she scolded, although there was little maliciousness behind it. "You think we've grown apart over the years, and you're probably right." Her unnaturally placid mask slipped for an instant, allowing him to see how much the confession hurt her. "But," she went on, schooling her expression once again, "some things don't change. You… I mean this in the kindest way, my dear…you are very adept at denial."

Obi-Wan stood watching her carefully pluck her words from the air, rendered silent by the truths she was setting free. 

"A perfect galaxy for you, as a Jedi, would be one where the temptation of attachment is never presented to you at all," Satine continued, her pale cerulean eyes observing his every reaction. "So that's what you strive to create for yourself. Within your own actions, you do everything you're expected to do to maintain the vows you've made to the Order: you put it first and withhold every selfish instinct you might happen to feel. But you have no control over others, especially their emotions. You don't want to believe that someone can love you, because it makes things complicated. So you convince yourself that those close to you feel nothing but friendship."

Her practice at public speaking was no doubt what enabled her to make such a speech without revealing too much of her own feelings. She spoke calmly, like one who hadn't the slightest personal involvement in the topic at hand. He wondered how she managed it. He felt more than a little stunned at her revelations. He hadn't been aware that he was 'adept at denial', but he found her words making an awful kind of sense, even if he didn't agree with everything she'd said. 

“But you needn't worry,” Satine said, her tone suddenly business-like and forcefully bright. “I don’t believe that Sabé would do anything to jeopardise your…arrangement.”

A vague acknowledgement of the statement shot through his head. The thought that Sabé would let her feelings interfere with either of their duties was absurd. She had far more control than that. She was selfless, much like a Jedi, but without the expectation to be so. It was not the first time he had thought so, even though Sabé herself disagreed. 

"It's never my instinct," she had said once when he had remarked on it. "It's just something I do for people I care about. It's not a big ask to put them first. I hope they would do the same for me."

His immediate concern was that she would get hurt, but he knew better than to try and change her mind once she had decided on a path. The more he thought about it, the more he saw the truth in Satine's words. Despite the fact that they were married, he'd never once questioned Sabé's feelings or entertained the possibility that she could want more out of their relationship than he was able to give. He wondered if Satine was right, that he simply hadn't wanted to consider it. He knew with absolute certainty that Sabé would never put him in the situation where he had to make a difficult choice. Satine hadn't either, yet he'd come perilously close to making one nonetheless. The answer, the only answer he could ever give, was that his life as a Jedi was exactly where he was supposed to be. He knew that. He suspected Sabé knew it too, which brought him back to worrying that she would be hurt. 

"I need to talk to her," he found himself saying, looking around for her orange-clad figure. She had vanished.

"Oh, Obi-Wan, I'm really not sure that's wise," Satine counselled, her frown a subtle yet clear sign of her disapproval. "She may be embarrassed if you reveal that you know. I told her secret was safe." 

"I don't want to hurt her, but I can't pretend that nothing has changed. Our situation is on too fine a balance for that." At her slightly puzzled expression, he elaborated. "Our marriage may be an unusual one, but it is a partnership like any other, and that only works when both parties are in full knowledge of all the facts." 

"What will you say?" Satine asked, a touch of genuine concern mixed with the curiosity that she did nothing to hide. 

"I don't know," he replied honestly, running a hand through his hair. It was the one habit he had that betrayed his unease. Some things did not warrant the use of the Force. 

There was an awkward pause. Satine was clearly wrestling with another question, one that she did not seem keen to ask. Then, with a resolved but almost fearful look, she added quietly, "Do you love her?"

He glanced at her, half tempted to lie, but found the truth slipping out before he could really think it through. "I don't know." 

Although it was by no means an admission, he could tell that it was more than she was expecting to hear from him. A rapid slideshow of emotions flickered across her face before she composed herself and settled on a neutral expression. 

“We both know that you will always be a dedicated Jedi,” she said after some consideration. “Make sure that all parties are in full knowledge of the facts.” She smiled at him, although her face showed undeniable sadness and betrayed how disappointed in him she was, however unfair it may be. “Goodbye, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she said softly. 

There were many things he could have said. Instead, he met her gaze intently and bowed his head. “Goodbye, Satine Kryze.” 

He watched her walk away, her head held high. Although part of him felt pained to see her go, he also knew it was right. 

_Go_ , he directed at her departing figure, _live your life, be happy._

Obi-Wan finally looked away as she melted into the crowd, finding his negative thoughts washed away by a calming sense of closure. That chapter of their lives was finished, years overdue. Now he had the present to deal with. Setting off weaving his way through the guests, he began his search for Sabé. He knew he had to find her. What was still uncertain was just what he was going to say to her when he did. 

***

Oblivious to the dramas her companions were going through, Padmé was busy mingling, extending all her effort into being Senator Amidala at her most dazzling. Gregar trailed behind her as always, and she was glad to have him there. His presence often kept some of the more misogynistic senators from making inappropriate comments. Teckla, too, stayed beside her. Parties weren't her idea of a good time, Padmé knew. Moteé, however, had taken her up on her offer and disappeared. 

Padmé hadn't yet made a full circuit of the room, constantly being waylaid to exchange a few words with other dignitaries. She'd spent the past five minutes trying to get away from an Umbaran aide whose name had escaped her. He wasn't quite as unpleasant as the senator he served, Mee Deechi, but he was odious enough that she was gradually inching away. Or, rather, trying to. 

"Well," she said, smiling tactfully, "I should-"

"Ah, this song!" he interrupted her. "Senator, you _must_ join me for a dance." 

Padmé pasted a benevolent look of regret on her face. "Oh, thank you so much for the offer, but I've promised this dance to Captain Typho here." 

Gregar smoothly covered up his surprised reaction, offering the aide a smile that lasted less than a second. 

"Surely he will understand," the man went on. 

"I would not dream of breaking my word," Padmé told him, backing away. "Excuse me." 

Taking Gregar's arm, an amused Teckla following on behind, she marched away towards the dance floor. 

"You can't be serious," Gregar muttered under his breath. 

"You're my Chief of Security," she said firmly, practically dragging him to a space amongst the dancing couples. "Protect me!" 

He sighed, but his slight smile gave him away. With some awkwardness, they began the steps. Gregar's palm was warm on the small of her back, his other hand holding hers for the first time in a long while. 

"You're leading," he accused her with wry amusement.

"Am I? Sorry." She relaxed, letting him take the lead. He knew what he was doing, after all. Every member of the Palace Guard had learned court etiquette, for the purposes of undercover work, which included formal dances. It seemed Gregar had forgotten none of it. Their movements grew more in sync once Padmé stopped trying to lead, and she found herself enjoying the dance. 

"So, Captain," she said, looking up at him with a smile, "how do you like working for me?" 

Employers engaged in dances with their employees all the time. It was almost expected at an event like the gala. 

"I enjoy the challenge, M'lady," he replied at once.

"I wasn't aware that it was challenging."

"Well," he said with a quick shrug, "let me put it this way. My job would be a lot easier if people stopped trying to kill you." 

She laughed. "Yes, so would mine." 

"I've tried asking them to stop," he went on, "they don't seem to listen."

"No? How rude." She twirled away from him as the dance demanded, spinning back to return to his arms. "Well, thank you for working through the difficulties and remaining in my service." 

"It would take more than a couple of difficulties to make me leave," he told her seriously. He'd proven that time and again. 

Padmé met his gaze. "I know."

He nodded in acknowledgement. They understood each other. They always had. 

"I don't want to step out of line," he said quietly, "but…I just want you to know…I know you're not okay. I see it, all the time. If you need to talk, just…know that you can. I'll always listen." 

Padmé gave a nod, letting her gratitude shine out in her small smile. She was aware that he very rarely spoke so openly, so she appreciated it all the more. 

"Thank you." 

She glanced away, fully conscious of the fact that it would be too easy to get caught up in their mutual understanding. They mustn't appear as anything more than a senator and her security officer engaging in a diplomatic dance. 

Gregar twirled her once more before they separated and bowed to each other, the music drawing to a close. Padmé smiled at him genially, but his expression had already closed off. When she turned around to look for Teckla, she saw why. 

"Anakin," she said in surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A wild Anakin appeared. So that's farewell to Satine for the moment. She'll be back, though. If you've seen Clone Wars, you'll know what's ahead.


	19. More Complications

**Chapter Nineteen – More Complications.**

 

"Anakin." 

"Good evening, Senator," the Jedi intoned, his manner polite but for the ice in his eyes. "How are you?"

Padmé studied him warily. "Very well, thank you. And you?"

"Been better." 

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said with sensitivity. "I was just about to get some fresh air. Join me?" She knew she had to defuse the situation before it grew out of control. 

His mouth was turned down in a pout, but he accepted. "Of course." 

Padmé discreetly waved Gregar and Teckla back, stepping out onto the balcony with Anakin. "What brings you here?" she asked carefully. She didn't want to ask _why_ he was there, or say that she hadn't been expecting him. He'd simply take her behaviour to mean that she was doing something she needed to hide. 

"Chancellor Palpatine invited me personally," he told her, a touch of pride in his voice. 

"It's a duty for me," she admitted, hoping he'd cool down if she confided in him. "So many senators being polite just because they have to. It's all so…fake. Just now I had to escape and dance with poor Captain Typho just to make sure I didn't punch Mee Teechi's aide in the face!" 

A trace of a smile ghosted over Anakin's face. "Aggressive negotiations?" he asked. 

Knowing then that she'd succeeded, Padmé grinned, partly in relief. "Almost. I didn't think it would be appropriate for the ballroom." 

"Probably not." He turned to her, eyes hopeful. "Can _I_ dance with you?"

Padmé hesitated. They could get away with it, especially considering the length of time they’d known each other. But Anakin was so open with his emotions. She couldn’t bear to have her colleagues take notice of the way he stared at her. 

"I don't know," she said gently. "Would that be a good idea? People might talk." 

"I don't care," Anakin hissed. 

"Yes, you do. I won't have either of our careers put in jeopardy over something that isn't important."

He glanced at her, seeming a little chastened, his annoyance still lingering in his expression. "Fine." 

Padmé inwardly sighed, leaning her arms on the railing. It was going to be a long evening. 

“I can’t stand that other people get to dance with you when _I_ don’t,” he said through clenched teeth. “It’s not fair.” 

“It’s one night a year,” she soothed. “It’s expected of me to dance with people, I’m a public figure, Anakin.” 

“I know,” he mumbled, looking down at his hands, one robotic, one flesh. “I should go find the Chancellor. Can I come by later?”

“I…I don’t know what time I’ll get out of here,” Padmé told him, trying to let him down gently. “I’m going to be really tired and I have a meeting first thing tomorrow.”

“I’m accompanying Master Windu to Vanqor in the morning. When else will I get to see you?” 

She glanced away. She had no answer for him. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t seem to care either,” he retorted sharply. 

“Anakin,” she said with disapproval. “I can’t plan my entire life around your schedule. I’m sorry you’re disappointed, but my work is important to me too. You know that.”

He met her gaze, frowning. “Sure I know that. I’ve heard it enough times.” He moved away from the railing, turning to go back inside. 

“I’m sorry,” she spoke up, “but you can’t just–”

Quicker than she would have believed, he rounded on her, making her jump. 

In a cold voice, he spat out a single word. “Don’t.”

In the Coruscant night light, she saw a flash of yellow in the depths of his eyes, but it was gone as rapidly as it came. Anakin spun on his heel and entered the ballroom, his robe billowing in his wake. 

Padmé remained where she was for a moment, shocked. She was breathing fast and shallow, knuckles white where she gripped the railing behind her. 

_I’m afraid_ , she realised with a jolt. _I’m afraid of him._

At the sudden comprehension, her fear turned to anger as she recalled the way he’d acted, and she was glad that they’d had the balcony to themselves. 

_He doesn’t get to speak to me that way_ , she decided firmly. _I won’t take it._

Gregar and Teckla both turned to her curiously when she returned to the gala, the former with a touch more concern. 

“Everything all right, M’lady?” he asked her. 

“Fine,” she lied. There was nothing she could do about it then and there. She had to find a way to get through the rest of the evening. “Where is Senator Organa? I should say hello to him.” 

“I saw him talking to Giddean Danu,” Teckla spoke up, “over by the buffet table.” 

“Let’s go and see if he’s still there,” Padmé said decisively. 

_It’s going to be a_ very _long evening._

***

All that Obi-Wan had planned to say to Sabé evaporated the moment he saw her. Not only was it neither the time nor place for such a conversation, she had very clearly already had one or two heavy discussions. She stood off to one side of the room, as far into a corner as she could contrive to get. Her face was blank, but her Force signature radiated annoyance, with traces of pain woven among it. 

When she looked up at him, however, her smile was familiar and friendly, and he wondered if Satine was seeing affection that wasn't there. But the longer he studied her, looking into the dark depths of her eyes, the more he began to identify the underlying hurt that blunted the brightness of her expression. He suddenly found he could not smile back at her. Aware that she was accustomed to a warmer greeting, he was not surprised when she asked him what was wrong. 

“Oh, nothing,” he answered her, brushing it aside. “Socialising with dignitaries is not really my forte.” 

Her smile turned mischievous. “Orn Free Taa seems to have started the Kenobi fan club.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her teasingly. “He will find himself the sole member of it.” 

“Is that so?” she said doubtfully. 

He knew what – or rather, who – she was thinking of. Deciding he should raise that topic sooner rather than later, he cleared his throat. “I, uh… Duchess Satine and I have parted ways.”

“Yes, she leaves tomorrow, doesn’t she?” Sabé said with sympathy. 

“She does,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “That wasn’t what I meant though. You were right when you said that the past still had bearing on our actions. It was time to…sever that tie.” 

She turned to him, eyes wide. “You…?”

“Said goodbye,” he finished for her. “Yes. It was time.” 

Sabé’s mouth hung open as she took in the information. “Oh… I’m…surprised. Are you okay?”

He nodded, because it was the truth. “It was the right thing to do.” 

Silence fell, and Sabé stared at the mingling guests. Obi-Wan studied her, not finding much to read in her countenance. 

“You know what?” she said at length. “This is the worst ball I’ve ever been to.” 

He laughed at that, although he didn’t much feel like it. “Same.”

She glanced up at him, her expression openly compassionate. “Shall I find Padmé and ask if we can leave?” 

Obi-Wan sensed that that was her greatest wish as well as his, so he nodded in agreement. “Yes, let’s.”

Adopting what he suspected was a falsely bright tone, she slipped her arm through his. “Stick with me, Kenobi. I won’t let the fan club get to you.” 

He offered her a genuine smile. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all evening.” 

***

Sidious retreated to his office as soon as diplomacy allowed him. The gala was a tedious affair, but it always had its moments that rendered it useful. He’d observed much over the course of the evening that he mentally filed away for later use. One thing he had noted with interest was Anakin’s reactions to Padmé Amidala’s behaviour. He’d always known the boy had a possessive streak. He hadn’t even needed to delve into the Force to discover that. Anakin had given it away simply in speaking, first about the new family his mother had found on Tatooine, and then, more critically, with what he purposely _did not_ say about Amidala. 

Sidious was willing to admit he’d been going about things the wrong way. He’d been feeding Anakin dreams, each of them showing Amidala’s death, building up the boy’s fear of losing her. But, he realised, there was more than one way to lose someone. 

As he’d mingled with his guests, Sidious had observed something that he was certain no one else had seen: the way Amidala’s Chief of Security looked at her. And more importantly, the way she looked back. Oh, it had been subtle. They were very discreet. In fact, Sidious suspected that nothing was actually going on between them. He couldn’t imagine Padmé Amidala breaking her wedding vows lightly, and she did seem to genuinely care for Anakin. But that didn’t mean that it couldn’t be exploited. When the time was right, he would slip a different kind of dream into the Chosen One’s mind. Anakin’s jealous nature would take care of the rest. Amidala and the captain were expendable, of course. 

As he stood thoughtfully gazing out over Coruscant, Sidious mused to himself that there was more still that could be done. If Amidala could be prompted to act, to take the captain as her lover, then that would be further fuel for Anakin’s anger to grow. Perhaps he should send her a dream or two as well. Something that would push her away from Anakin. Most likely she would turn to the captain of her own accord. Only when the time dictated. Sidious was a master at playing the long game. He could wait. 

In the meantime, he had things to do to prepare for the following morning’s session. It amused him to gather all the senators together early the day after a big party. In the harsh light of day, it was easy to take note of who had been a little too free with his hospitality. 

Turning away from the window, he seated himself at his desk. It was time to start cashing in on the work Senator Daedrin had been doing for him. 

***

The Naboo pod was rather full during the following morning’s Senate session. Sabé was the only handmaiden in attendance, sharing the bench on the left of the pod with Gregar. Moteé and Teckla waited back at the apartment with See-Threepio so that Luma and Jago could sit on the right-hand bench. Padmé had her seat to herself, of course, and she was busy setting up a new page of flimsi notes while they waited for the session to start. 

“Teckla told me she saw something strange last night,” Gregar said in a low voice. 

“Strange how?” Sabé asked, holding her hood back so she could see his face. 

“She said she saw Moteé talking to Senator Daedrin.”

Sabé frowned, confused. “I didn’t know they knew each other.”

“I don’t think they _do_ know each other,” Gregar admitted. “Moteé hasn’t said anything about it, but I’m worried. He’s bound to know that she’s a member of the Order of Sanctuary.” 

“Yes,” Sabé agreed, concerned. “Should we ask her? I mean, it seems…rude. And you know what she’s like, she’ll take it to mean we doubt her ability to handle herself.” 

“I haven’t decided.”

“Technically, you are her superior. I know we handmaidens are a separate unit, but when it comes down to it…”

“I know,” he said with a sigh. He rubbed his single eye with a gloved hand.

Sabé studied him, a slight frown on her face. “When was the last time you had a day off, Gregar?” 

He lowered his hand and sent her a stern look. “You know I hate time off.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

“It was weeks ago,” Padmé chimed in, looking back over her shoulder. “You used to paint, Captain. What happened to that?” 

“Good question,” said Sabé, folding her arms. “I haven’t seen a new piece from you in ages.” 

Gregar’s gaze flicked between them. He looked like a man trying not to laugh because it would ruin his appearance of exasperation. “Ganging up on me is hardly fair.” 

“It’s not ganging up,” Padmé corrected him, “it’s showing concern, which we are entitled to do.” 

“Our sweet senator makes a very good point,” Sabé declared with a smile. “See, this is why she is the politician and we’re the security.” 

Gregar threw a look back at where Obi-Wan was standing in the alcove behind the pod. “Little help?”

“Oh, I’m staying well out of this,” the Jedi said at once, holding up his hands. 

“I thought you Jedi were peacekeepers.”

“My friend, it is more than my life is worth,” Obi-Wan apologetically said, smiling. 

Sabé bit her lip against a giggle. Her parents were looking rather bemused, which just made her want to laugh harder. Fortunately, the arrival of Chancellor Palpatine broke up the conversation. 

“My fellow delegates,” he began, as was his wont, “let me say how very glad I was to see so many of you at last night’s gala. I hope that all of you enjoyed it as much as I did.” He bowed his head graciously as a ripple of applause spread around the room. “Thank you, thank you.”

Next to her, Sabé heard Gregar give an almost-silent huff of sarcastic laughter. 

“I do apologise for calling you all together so early in the day,” the Chancellor went on, “but I’m afraid I have some important information to share. I regret to say that it appears that someone is mounting a personal attack against my homeworld of Naboo.” 

Sabé tensed, as did every one of her companions. Nearby heads turned to regard the Naboo pod, and Padmé lifted her chin a little as she straightened her impassive mask. 

“The Order of Sanctuary,” Palpatine said between dramatic pauses, “is a legendary symbol of Naboo’s high class of warrior. Over the course of recent months, it has become clear that someone has been targeting them. Several Order members have been murdered in cold blood.

Sabé glanced back at Obi-Wan, who was looking grim, his hand covering his mouth. He met her gaze and they communicated their wariness in a single look. 

“I have been advised against telling you this, for the sake of those who are investigating the matter. However, I know that several of you owe your continuing safety to the Order, and I believe that you deserve to know so that you may be on the alert.” The Chancellor’s shoulders slumped as he gave a sigh. His next words were quiet, laced with sadness. “My friends, you know I care for each and every one of you, but I cannot forget my ties to my homeworld. I take these ongoing attacks very personally. If it is being done as some kind of objection to the work I do here, then I plead with the culprit to take the matter up with me and stop taking the lives of innocent people.” 

Several shouts of agreement echoed through the arena. The ever-present HoloNet droids drifted closer to get close-up shots of Palpatine’s face. 

“I hope and pray that those behind it will be brought to justice.” He halted, seeming to gain better control over his emotions. “Until that time, please be careful and vigilant. And to the Order of Sanctuary, I extend my most heartfelt condolences, and I beg you to be mindful. We don’t want to see any more unnecessary deaths, _especially_ if they are in objection to my actions.” 

Jago leaned forward to whisper something to Padmé, who nodded. Sabé shot a look to Obi-Wan, but he had disappeared. No doubt he was contacting the Jedi Council. 

Padmé stood up and moved the Naboo pod forward. “Chancellor.”

“The chair recognises Senator Amidala of Naboo,” Mas Amedda announced. 

“Thank you for pledging your support to our planet at this time,” Padmé spoke up. “It is gratifying to know that you still hold Naboo’s interests close to your heart.” 

“Thank you for your kind words, Senator,” the Chancellor replied gallantly. “I always shall.” 

Padmé bowed her head and sent him a smile before returning the pod to its dock. Sabé understood why she had to thank him, but she suspected that inwardly Padmé shared her own view: that the announcement was a mistake that could jeopardise the Jedi investigation. And judging by his sudden absence, she knew Obi-Wan thought it too. 

“This could make things interesting,” she muttered under her breath.

Beside her, Gregar nodded in agreement. 

***

“What was _that_?” Quaine Daedrin demanded the moment he heard the door hiss closed behind him. “You promised I’d have time to–”

“If I were you, Senator, I would reconsider my tone of voice very carefully.” Sitting calmly at his desk, the Chancellor seemed unruffled by Daedrin’s anger, but his eyes were cold. “Remember to whom you are speaking.”

Daedrin hesitated. Since he’d accepted the Chancellor’s commission, he had slowly begun to realise that he had no idea who the man really was. He was not simply a former senator from Naboo. He was clearly much more. Deadrin just didn’t know what. Humbled, he fell silent. 

“I informed you from the very beginning that my intention was to use the murders to my advantage,” Palpatine intoned, peering at him over his fingertips. 

“I know, Chancellor,” Daedrin tried to clarify, “but–”

“I don’t remember agreeing to any situation where I was required to explain myself to _you_.” 

Daedrin swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes, Chancellor. I merely wish to express my concern over completing the rest of the task with the entire Republic on alert.” 

Palpatine smiled, but there was nothing pleasant about it. “Why, Senator Daedrin, I have faith in your abilities.” 

Daedrin said nothing. He was fighting a losing battle, better to give up before he made a complete fool of himself. 

“How is that delightful young woman I sent your way?” 

“She’s working out just fine, Chancellor,” he reported truthfully. “She’s exactly what I needed, plus she has insider knowledge, including the location of the Order’s Temple. When the time is right, we’ll storm it. But that won’t be for a while.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Palpatine said cheerfully. “I will have need of a big event like that in due course. Wait to hear from me. I’ll know the opportune moment.” 

Daedrin inclined his head. “Of course, Chancellor. May I go?”

Palpatine scrutinised him calculatingly. “You were the one who marched in here, Senator. Are you quite finished?”

Daedrin felt himself flush in embarrassment. “Yes, Chancellor. My apologies.” 

“Then you may go.” 

Without hesitation, he did so, spinning on his heel and leaving the wily old man behind him. Later he could go to his base of operations. There would be a certain ‘delightful young woman’ who he was sure would listen to his complaints. 

***

The Jedi Council, as predicted, were not happy with the development. However, they were optimistic that the culprit, be it Daedrin or someone else, might panic at the Chancellor’s statement and make a mistake. Obi-Wan reported all of this back to Sabé, who frowned and once again made her opinion of the investigation’s progress known.

Both seated at the table in Padmé’s kitchen, they spoke quietly, mindful of the other occupants of the apartment. 

“I have it on good authority that the investigation has achieved more than may be immediately apparent,” Obi-Wan told her.

“Like what?” 

“I…don’t know,” he admitted. 

Sabé glowered at him, although she knew it was not really his fault. “Obi-Wan,” she said with a weary sigh, “what am I supposed to do? I can’t _stand_ this.”

He reached out, covering her hand with his. Despite her annoyance, her heart gave a jolt. 

“Things are moving into place,” he assured her. “I can sense it.” 

“You can?”

“Yes. Nothing specific. Just…a feeling.” 

A little pacified, Sabé met his gaze. “Well…your feelings have turned out to be more accurate than other people’s hard evidence, so…” She shrugged. 

His blue eyes were intense, as if he was searching for something within her very soul. She found herself rendered speechless, wondering what it was he sought. Part of her couldn’t help noticing how close he was. Close enough to kiss if she were so inclined. She shut that thought down right away, afraid that he would somehow see it in her face. 

Approaching footsteps broke the spell and they both looked away, Obi-Wan pulling his hand back. Padmé appeared in the doorway, her lips pressed together in a thin line. 

“Sabé,” she greeted, “I’ve just had word from the Council in Theed.”

Sabé’s stomach twisted. “And?”

Padmé’s irritation was plain to see. “They can’t rule on the marriage law yet. They want more evidence.” 

Ignoring the traitorous part of her that was a little pleased by the news, Sabé shook her head in disbelief. “That’s ridiculous,” she said. “Your case was perfect.” 

“Apparently not perfect enough,” the senator said crossly. “I’m going to sift through more documents when I can, but I don’t see how I can say anything more than I already have.”

“Maybe they just need to hear it again,” Obi-Wan theorised. 

“Maybe.” Padmé pulled a face. “Well, I’d better get back to work. I just thought you’d want to know.”

“Thank you,” said Sabé with a nod. “I’ll be there soon.”

“No rush, you have another ten minutes.” With a rustle of fabric, she was gone. 

Sabé turned to Obi-Wan. “Guess you’re still stuck with me,” she quipped, trying to sound flippant. 

She expected him to make some dry remark, but he simply studied her thoughtfully before giving a distracted smile.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he replied at once. “It’s just…been a rather unexpected day.” 

Sabé raised her eyebrows and sighed, nodding in agreement. “To say the least.” 

Obi-Wan’s comlink demanded attention and he tugged it out of his pocket. Ki-Adi-Mundi appeared. 

“Master,” Obi-Wan acknowledged him. “What can I do for you?”

“The Council wishes to speak to you, Master Kenobi. It’s quite urgent.” 

Obi-Wan shot a glance at Sabé, who waved her hand, indicating that she’d be fine. 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Kenobi out.” He deactivated the holo projector, returning it to his robe. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?” he asked Sabé.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t think Padmé is planning on leaving the apartment again today. I’ll just wait here until you’re done.” 

“All right. I’ll see you later.” With a quick smile, he left the table and was gone, leaving Sabé alone with her thoughts. 

***

It was the middle of another Coruscanti night. The apartment was dark, lit only by the movement of the traffic outside. There was just enough light to see by, enough for Sabé to look up into Obi-Wan’s clear blue gaze. He dipped his head and kissed her neck, drawing a small gasp from her. She ran her fingertips up his bare back, tightening her hold. He caressed her knee, then hooked it more securely around his hip as they kept pace with one another. Not a word was spoken, nor was it needed. She looked deeply into his eyes, seeing the truth of his feelings for her, such as they were. Gods, but she loved him. How she wished she’d known that the first time they had fallen into each other’s arms. Leaning forward, he brushed her lips with his, his beard scratching her skin. He breathed her name against her mouth. And then a sudden, monstrous clap of thunder broke through their peace. 

Sabé’s eyes flew open and she sat up with a gasp. She was in Padmé’s apartment, lounging in an easy chair. Gregar shot her a look from his own seat. He was leaning down, clearing up a broken caf cup.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said apologetically. 

_Guess that explains the thunder_ , she thought, trying to calm her wildly-beating heart. 

“Bad dream?” Gregar asked, frowning at whatever expression she was pulling. 

“Uh…no. No…just…unwanted.”

The dream, part memory, part fantasy, drifted back to her and she blushed. She leaned forward, letting the dark curtain of her hair hide her reddened cheeks. She supposed she should be glad she’d managed to sleep at all.

“How long was I out?” she asked.

“Only an hour or so,” Gregar told her. “Don’t worry, you’d finished your shift.” 

Sabé pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. The images still greeted her behind her closed lids. She let out a quiet grumble of annoyance, well aware that dwelling on events that would never be repeated was a waste of time and energy. But still, her feelings refused to listen. Slowly, desire stole through her body, moving like a wave creeping up a shore, equally as persistent and difficult to ignore. 

Yet she knew it wasn’t just the physical side of it that haunted her. It had been so much more than a physical act. The time they’d spent in each other’s arms had been the closest, most intimate thing she’d ever shared with someone. In those scant hours, they had completely and utterly known one another. She had felt her soul laid bare, had been accepted and valued without question or expectation. She’d never known anything like it. And she never would again.

_Get a grip, Sabé._

She heard Gregar deposit the pieces of cup on a nearby table. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. 

She shook her hair back from her face and nodded, massaging her temples. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now. I’m not sleeping well.”

“I gathered that,” he said with an element of sympathy. Tone brightening, he added, “But you made a lovely model.” 

Sabé narrowed her eyes. “What?”

Smirking, Gregar showed her the drawing he’d made of her. She was slumped in the chair, her legs thrown over the arm rest, her hair, mercifully, covering her face. 

“Gods,” she grunted. “Thank you for that.” 

“You requested more artwork,” he said, “I delivered.”

Sabé shook her head, unable to keep her amusement from her face. “The _one_ time you actually take my advice…” 

“I know. Isn’t it ironic?” 

A burst of laughter slipped from her and she leaned back in her chair, sighing. “Where is everyone?”

“At dinner,” Gregar informed her, returning his drawing to the table. 

“Are my parents still here?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” 

“I thought Obi-Wan would be back by now,” Sabé mused. “Must be something really important.” 

“It was,” came a familiar voice. 

Obi-Wan entered the room with a sweep of his robe, looking a little frazzled. Sabé sat forward, appraising him. 

“Are you okay? Do you want something to drink?” 

He waved off the offer. “No, thank you. Let’s get home.” 

Sabé clamped down the little burst of warmth at his use of the word ‘home’, nodding and getting to her feet. “Of course. Let me just get my cloak.” 

Whatever it was, it was clearly big news. Sabé wondered what that meant for her. So often these days, her definition of normal was being rewritten. 

_Guess we’ll find out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: More Clone Wars content ahead!


	20. Deception

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: More Clone Wars storylines here, so spoilers I guess. Any dialogue you recognise comes from there. I also borrowed a title. I suck at titles.

**Chapter Twenty – Deception.**

 

Her palms were sweating. Nerves turned her insides stormy, and she fought to calm herself. 

_You can do this, Sabé._

She was off-duty, spending a laid back evening with Padmé in the veranda lounge. See-Threepio was fussing around them, pouring drinks. Moteé was in her room, calling her family. Teckla was out with a friend. Gregar was also off-duty for once, on his way up from his own apartment to join them for drinks. His team of officers were at their stations. Everything was normal. 

Except that Obi-Wan was on a mission with Anakin and Ahsoka Tano. 

After two months of silence from the Order of Sanctuary murderer, the Jedi Council had deemed it safe enough to send Obi-Wan on a slightly longer, crucial assignment. Sabé disapproved of the idea. The whole thing sounded ridiculously dangerous. But of course she could not object. 

“What do you think of this wine?” Padmé asked her, cutting through her thoughts. 

Sabé forced a smile onto her face. “I quite like it. Why? Don’t you?”

“I’m not sure yet. Maybe I need to drink more than one glass!” 

“That’s how it all starts,” Sabé teased. 

Padmé pulled a face, reaching for a slice of shuura fruit. Sabé surreptitiously glanced at her chrono. It had been several hours since Obi-Wan had left. 

_It won’t be long now._

As if summoned by her reflections, Gregar clattered down the stairs, a grim expression on his face. Sabé’s heart gave a little flip in anticipation. 

“There you are,” Padmé greeted him warmly. “I’ll get Threepio to get you a drink.” 

“No, thank you, I’m fine,” he said, barely taking his eye off Sabé. 

“What is it?” she made herself say, rising to her feet. “Gregar?”

Gregar shifted awkwardly, approaching her with a look of compassion. “I’ve…just had word from the Jedi Temple.”

“Oh?” said Padmé, standing too, a cloud of worry settling over her face. 

Gregar reached for Sabé’s hand, holding it in both of his. “Sabé…uh…I don’t really know how to say this, but…Obi-Wan has been killed.”

Sabé simply stared at him, hearing Padmé’s exclamation beside her. She swallowed hard.

“Wh…what?”

“The mission he was on,” Gregar explained, “he was…shot. By a bounty hunter.”

Sabé dropped back down onto the sofa, her hand slipping out of his grip. Padmé sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Their kindness just made her feel worse. 

“I’m so sorry, Sabé,” said Gregar, sitting on her other side and exchanging a worried look with Padmé. 

“It’s…it’s okay,” she said, her voice faint. “He was…just a friend. I’ll be okay.” 

And then the tears came. 

***

_Two days ago._

Obi-Wan had a heavy weight of expectation pooling in the pit of his stomach as he joined Masters Yoda and Windu in one of the Jedi Temple’s meditation rooms. He was fairly confident he knew why he’d been summoned. The conversation they’d had two months before was still fresh in his mind. 

“Thank you for coming,” Mace Windu greeted him as he took a seat on one of the low stools. 

“This is about Moralo Eval, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan said, looking between them. 

“Correct, you are, Obi-Wan,” Yoda nodded. 

The night the Council had summoned him, when he’d left Sabé at Padmé’s apartment, they had spoken of a notorious criminal mastermind, Moralo Eval. They had heard word that the unstable Phindian was planning to kidnap Chancellor Palpatine, and there was a chance that Obi-Wan would be needed in the operation to stop the plot. Eval had been captured, however, and it seemed as though it had died down. But when he’d received an urgent message from Master Yoda, Obi-Wan had known that it wasn’t over. 

“Has he escaped?” he asked. 

“No,” Mace assured him, “but we suspect that his plan has been set in motion regardless.” 

“In grave danger, the Chancellor is,” Yoda growled, gripping his walking stick as it lay across his lap. 

Obi-Wan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What can I do?” 

Yoda and Mace exchanged a grim glance. “Have need of your skills, we do,” Yoda told him. “The Negotiator must handle this.” 

“We need you to go undercover,” Mace enlightened him. “As a bounty hunter. You’ll join Eval’s gang and report his plans back to us.”

“How will the Jedi explain my absence?” 

“That’s where things get…complicated,” Mace admitted with a cynical look. “You’ll need to get yourself killed. We’ll send you after a bounty hunter as soon as we can. Then you’ll take his place.”

“And Eval will accept him because he’s killed a Jedi,” Obi-Wan finished, cupping his chin in his hand. 

“Exactly.” 

“What about Anakin? And Sabé?” 

“Only the Jedi Council will know about this,” said Yoda sternly.

Obi-Wan frowned, trying to find the most polite way of objecting. “That…seems cruel, Masters. To fool them like this.” 

“If the story is to be believed,” Mace insisted, “young Skywalker’s reaction must be genuine. His friendship with you is well-publicised. Nothing must seem off.” 

“I understand the reasoning,” Obi-Wan told him with reluctant acceptance. “Anakin isn’t the best at controlling his emotions. But what about Sabé? This affects her most of all.” 

“The same reasoning would apply to her.” 

“Despite the speculations they publish, the HoloNet is well aware that Sabé and I have a marriage of convenience only,” Obi-Wan argued. “They won’t expect the same level of reaction from her. They don’t even know that we were friends before we married.” 

_I don’t want her to suffer through this,_ he reflected. _Considering how she really feels…I wouldn’t want the galaxy to see her pain and make cruel guesses._

“Even so,” Mace intoned in his customary stern drawl. “It’s unwise to bring her into this plan.” 

“She has a right to know!” Obi-Wan said, surprisingly fiercely. “The only reason she entered into this marriage is for protection, she deserves to know that that protection isn’t lost.” 

Mace exchanged a long look with Yoda, whose wizened face betrayed nothing of his thoughts on the matter. 

“More regard for your wife, you have,” Yoda mused, “than you seem to think, Obi-Wan.”

“I made her a promise, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan replied simply. “I intend to keep it. It is my duty to see that she remains safe until Senator Amidala can repeal the law.” 

Both Yoda and Mace seemed appeased by his sound reasoning, although Obi-Wan could sense that the topic was not closed permanently. 

Mace raised a slanting eyebrow. “Whether you tell her the truth or not, the rest of the galaxy will see her as a widow.”

“We can draw up a document that we can both sign declaring that in the event of my death she must observe three standard months of mourning before she remarries,” Obi-Wan said. “Even if this mission overruns, it certainly won’t extend that long.” 

Yoda nodded thoughtfully. “A sound plan. But despite your marriage of convenience, watched her reaction will still be.”

“Sabé is a gifted actress, Master. She once fooled many people into thinking she was the Queen of Naboo. I would not suggest it if I did not think she could handle it.” Obi-Wan held Yoda’s wise, scrutinising gaze and waited, confident in his arguments. 

“Very well,” the Jedi Master declared at length. “Right, you are, that you have a duty to her protection. But an easy path, this is not. Lie to her friends, she must.” 

Obi-Wan nodded in understanding. “I believe she can do it. I’m confident that her gratitude in knowing that she’s still safe will counter any difficulties she has in fooling those around her.” 

Mace closed his eyes and sighed, waving a hand. “I will trust your judgement on this, Obi-Wan. I barely know her.” 

“When do we put this plan into action?” he asked. 

“When it is time, let you know, we will,” said Yoda. 

Obi-Wan bowed his head, then stood. “In that case, if you’ll excuse me, Masters. I have some planning to do.” 

***

Sabé found it easy to cry over Obi-Wan’s fictional death, knowing the dangers he would be stepping into in the shoes of a bounty hunter. Padmé and Gregar’s distress made her feel so incredibly guilty, but she had no choice but to accept the comfort they offered her. Padmé demanded that she take the spare room, which she agreed to do. She knew it might not be safe for her to remain in her own apartment, and truthfully, she didn’t want to stay there without Obi-Wan. She suspected she would feel his absence all the more if she went back there. Not knowing how long he might be away was the worst part. 

In the days that followed the news of his death, Sabé went through the motions that her job required, trying to strike a balance between being upset but not heartbroken. When alone with Padmé, who knew her secret, she showed a little more emotion. She wasn’t sure how much Gregar knew, but she imagined he guessed quite a lot, so she allowed herself to be more distraught around him too. It was draining work. 

She and Padmé were invited to the funeral at the Jedi Temple, along with Duchess Satine, who made a special trip, Chancellor Palpatine, and a few of Obi-Wan’s other non-Jedi associates. The HoloNet snapped them on their way in to the Temple, and Sabé did her best to seem subdued but calm. 

The service itself was difficult to bear. It wasn’t hard to imagine it might be real, especially when she was surrounded by so much genuine sorrow. Her tears slipped down her cheeks, but she maintained her composure. Duchess Satine, on the other hand, openly sobbed, and Sabé felt a fresh wave of guilt. Anakin glowered at the floor from underneath his hooded robe, a catalyst of poorly-concealed pain and anger. From Padmé’s tense posture beside her, she surmised that her friend was deeply concerned about her husband’s stability. 

_Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all,_ Sabé pondered. 

After the service, Padmé invited the mourners back to her apartment for drinks and reminiscing. The Chancellor and most of the Jedi declined her offer, but Anakin and Ahsoka accepted, joining Satine and the others. 

“Lady Sabé,” Mace Windu said, approaching her. “Master Yoda and I would like to talk to you about your ongoing safety.”

Sabé nodded, having been expecting it. “Of course, Master Windu.” To Padmé, she said, “I’ll meet you back at the apartment.” 

Padmé furrowed her brow. “I’m not letting you travel alone.”

“We will send someone to escort her,” Mace Windu assured her. “You have my word.” 

Having no choice but to accept it, Padmé inclined her head. “Very well.” She shot a look to Sabé, who tried to convey that she would be fine, then departed with her guests. 

Sabé accompanied Yoda and Mace Windu through the Temple’s spacious corridors, soon finding herself in a wing she’d never visited before. Mace Windu moved the doors aside with a wave of his hand, revealing a clinical, bright medical centre. Obi-Wan was there, sitting on the bed, flanked by a medical droid. 

Sabé couldn’t help smiling when she saw him. After all the pretence, it was a comfort to see him still alive. 

“So, how was my funeral?” he asked. 

“A better performance than you, your corpse gave,” Yoda told him lightly. 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Whatever do you mean? I fell from the top of a building. I could have killed myself.” 

Sabé frowned, aware of the truth of his statement. 

Yoda scrutinised him. “Survived worse, you have. Young Skywalker knows this.”

“I took the vitals suppressor as instructed,” Obi-Wan told him. “I was dead to the world when Anakin moved my body. There’s no way he could know I was alive.”

“Not know. But sense, he will, that something is not right.” 

Sabé didn’t think that that was a bad thing, judging by Anakin’s reaction to Obi-Wan’s ‘death’. 

“You said yourself, keeping Anakin on the outside was critical,” said Obi-Wan intently. “Everyone knows how close we are. It was his reaction that sold the sniper. I’m sure of it.”

“What’s done is done,” Windu sighed. 

Obi-Wan caught Sabé’s gaze. “So. How _was_ the funeral? Really?”

“Horrible,” she replied at once. “Seems you have a lot of people who respect and care for you. You’ve managed to upset all of them.” 

“That was quite impressive of me,” he muttered, although she could tell his light tone was more for the benefit of Yoda and Mace Windu. He was troubled to have caused his friends distress. “And how are you holding up?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Me? Fine. I’m in mourning for my convenient husband.” 

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said, offering a small smile. 

“So am I. You know my parents want to come here?”

“Ah…sorry about that.” 

“Come on,” Mace Windu interrupted. “We need to get your transformation underway.” 

Obi-Wan nodded with an air of slight reluctance. “Well, time for a shave.” 

At his words, the droid raised one of its arms to his head, cutting thick lines into his hair, slowly rendering him completely bald. 

“Have there been any updates since I was out?” he asked. 

“A few,” said Windu. “As you know, we approached Eval to part with details of his plot but he was uncooperative. Since then it has emerged that the kidnapping is rumoured to take place during the festival on Naboo.”

Sabé glanced at him sharply, surprised. “The Festival of Light? That’s only three days from now.” 

“That doesn’t leave you much time to gain his trust,” Windu said with a frown.

“After we break out of prison together, I imagine we’ll be the best of friends,” Obi-Wan muttered dryly. 

“Wait,” Sabé said, holding up a hand, “what prison?”

“You don’t think Anakin will let my murderer go free, do you?” he asked.

Her eyes widened. “Well, no, but…from what I just saw of his mood back there, he’s more likely to kill you than capture you.” 

Yoda rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. Correct, you are. Ground him, his Padawan must.” 

“Any details that might help me gain Eval’s trust while I’m in prison?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“He killed his mother when he was only a boy,” Windu told him. “He told the authorities he did it because he was bored.”

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan mused. “I’ll try not to bore him.” 

“Not a game, is this, Obi-Wan,” Yoda scolded. “The risks…great they are.”

“Yes, but so are the rewards.” The droid moved away, and Obi-Wan ran his hands across his bald head and smooth jaw line as he spoke. “Besides preventing Eval from abducting the Chancellor, he could lead us to Grievous. And possibly Dooku himself.”

Sabé took in the strange sight of him, hairless but for his eyebrows. She’d almost forgotten what he looked like without the beard, although she preferred him with hair, given the choice. 

“Facial transformation program loaded,” the medical droid informed them, bringing up the details of the bounty hunter that had shot Obi-Wan on the holo screens. 

“I take it there’s no way to have the Chancellor pull out of the festival?” Obi-Wan asked, shifting to lie down on the bed. 

“No,” said Yoda at once. “See it as a sign of weakness, he would.”

“Plus he’s showing strong support for Naboo since the Order murders began,” Sabé added. 

With a put-upon sigh, Obi-Wan let the droids hold his head steady, while a syringe was aimed at his neck. Sabé winced, although she wasn’t sure why. 

“Transformation initiated,” the droid reported. 

Obi-Wan began to convulse, letting out rasping cries of pain. Sabé darted forward, but halted just shy of the bed, unsure what she could do. Fortunately, Mace Windu had also reacted, which made her feel less conspicuous. 

In less than a minute, however, it was over, and Obi-Wan sat up, hands covering his face. When he lowered them, he was a different man. His face was thinner, more gaunt, his features heavier, his skin an unhealthy grey pallor. A spiralling red tattoo covered his left cheek, spreading up over his eyelid to his forehead. His eyes, although still blue, were less vibrant, and dark stubble covered his chin. 

Sabé met his gaze, trying to see anything of Obi-Wan Kenobi in his face. She tried to smile, but it felt like a poor effort. 

“That was unpleasant,” he announced with feeling. His voice was unchanged, which was rather surreal. “How do I look?”

“Like someone who’s capable of killing a Jedi,” Sabé told him. 

“Good.”

“Need the real Rako Hardeen’s clothes, you will,” Yoda reminded him. 

“That won’t be a problem,” Mace Windu said. “He’s due to pick up his payment tonight.” 

“How long will this transformation last?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“It’s permanent until we initiate the reverse procedure.” 

Sensing that their goodbye was fast approaching, Sabé gained stronger control over her fear and concern. She had to trust that he’d be okay. They’d already worked out the details of her situation. It would be suspicious for her to have another Jedi protector without the excuse of the marriage, so she would stay with Padmé where there was safety in numbers. A Jedi would shadow her whenever she ventured outside, just in case. 

“The Festival of Light will take place in the grounds of Theed Palace,” she spoke up. “If you need any details about the location, let me know. I know every corner of it.” 

“I’ll try and send word if I can.” 

She nodded. “I should get back to Padmé’s apartment. Good luck.” She wanted to say more, but was mindful of their audience. 

Obi-Wan held out his arm, as if he wanted to shake her hand. A little puzzled, she stepped forward and took his hand. At once, she felt the tiny object he was pressing into her palm. Her eyes met his changed ones, his gaze intense. 

“Be safe,” he said simply. 

“You too.”

“I’ll do my best.” 

Sabé slipped her hand out of his, curling her fingers around the object. She nodded to Yoda and Mace Windu, both of whom nodded back without showing any suspicion over what had just happened. 

“Master Secura will escort you back to Senator Amidala’s apartment,” Mace Windu told her. 

“Thank you, Master Windu.” Obi-Wan’s parting gift held securely in her fist, Sabé took a moment to school her expression into one of grief. It wasn’t difficult to do. Then she headed out into the corridor. 

***

Spending time with the mourners was difficult, especially considering that all Sabé wanted to do was listen to Obi-Wan’s message. The object he’d passed her was a holo chip, but she hadn’t found a single peaceful moment to play it. She was not surprised when Anakin and Ahsoka left early, knowing that they’d no doubt had word from Mace Windu. By now, the real Rako Hardeen was in Jedi custody, Obi-Wan firmly in his place. 

She sat and watched the chrono until she could excuse herself and go to her room. Padmé didn’t question her strangely-early night, for which she was thankful. Blissfully alone, she locked the door and slipped the chip into her holo reader. Obi-Wan’s figure materialised before her. 

“Sabé,” he began. “By the time you see this, I’ll no doubt be playing the part of someone else. I hope everything is going well. I know this is going to be difficult for you, but I have faith in your abilities. When I can, I will contact the Temple to update them on the mission’s progress. My com’s frequency is 164.42. Don’t contact me, but please tune your headset to this frequency only. That way, I can get in touch with you if I need to.” His image hesitated, looking a little uncertain. “The Council doesn’t want me giving you this information, but… Let’s just say, I’ve been led to believe I know better on this one. I’ve asked Master Yoda to bring you in after the funeral. Hopefully, I can slip this chip to you then. In the meantime, stay vigilant. I know you will. I’ll see you soon.” The image flickered and vanished. 

Sabé sighed, removing the chip and snapping it in half before she was tempted to keep it. She reached for her com, changing the settings and slipping it into her ear. It was silly, but she felt better for it, as if she had some kind of tie to him, wherever he was. 

_Now all I have to do is wait_ , she told herself. What an impossible task it seemed to be. 

***

All the guests had gone by the time Anakin returned to the apartment. Padmé was still up. She’d anticipated that he would come. He needed her support, she could see that quite clearly. 

“He’s in jail,” he muttered to her in place of a greeting. 

Padmé tried to curb her surprise that Anakin hadn’t killed the man then and there. “That’s good,” she said simply. 

“Is it?” he snapped, turning to her, the pain twisting his features. “It’s more than he deserves. If it were up to me…but…that’s not what Obi-Wan would have done.” 

“No,” she agreed, pleased to hear about what he’d done and why. 

“How is Sabé?” he asked. 

“She’s upset, but she’ll be fine. He was her friend for a long time. We’ll all miss him.” She felt a wave of sorrow, partly her own pain, partly compassion for Anakin and Sabé, who she knew were suffering far worse than they were letting on. 

“He was the best man I ever knew,” Anakin said, his voice cracking. “How am I supposed to go on without his guidance?”

“He’ll always be with you,” Padmé soothed, rubbing his back. “The Jedi believe in the living Force, don’t they? So he’ll always be a part of you.”

“But I don’t _feel_ him anywhere?” Anakin burst out. “It’s like…he’s just…gone. When my mother passed it was tough,” he said quietly. “But eventually I felt like there was closure there. This…isn’t enough.”

Padmé fell silent, well aware that the closure he spoke of had been the slaughter of an entire village of Tusken Raiders. 

“Not every death is the same,” she told him gently. “It will get easier, I promise you.” 

Anakin said nothing, staring at the floor as Padmé traced patterns on his back. She wasn’t sure how long they sat like that. 

“I should get back to the Temple,” he said eventually, sighing as if he had the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders. 

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.” 

He managed a watery smile, raising a hand to her cheek. “You’ve already done plenty.”

Padmé tried to smile too, covering his hand with her own. “Go on, go and get some rest. I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you.”

She nodded. “So you should,” she replied.

Anakin grinned tiredly, bidding her goodnight before leaving. Padmé drew her legs up under her chin, sitting there in the dark for a long while before she stirred herself into moving upstairs. She had a Senate session to attend tomorrow. She hoped and prayed that Sabé would be up to it. 

***

Padmé and her entourage were waiting for their speeder outside the Senate, having just sat through three hours of bickering. Sabé and Teckla were flanking her, their dusky purple gowns complimenting Padmé’s dress of sleek blue-grey silk. Padmé was busy chatting to Senator Organa, going over some of the major points raised in the session. Gregar stood beside her, keeping an eye out for their ride, two of his officers stationed at an unobtrusive distance. Sabé was happy just to stand in the fresh air. She had a pounding headache, but it was strangely freeing. Everyone seemed to put her quiet mood down to grief. 

“Excuse me,” came an unfamiliar voice at Sabé’s back. 

She turned, Teckla mirroring her move, discreetly letting the vibroblade in her sleeve slip down into her palm. 

“Can I help you?” Sabé asked politely. 

The speaker was a young human woman, about Padmé’s age, willowy and slim with close-cropped black hair and clear, green eyes accentuated by dark make-up. Her boots and leggings were smart but functional, and she wore a flowing cream tunic cinched with a practical belt that had seen better days. The tunic was loose enough to conceal small weapons. 

“Is Moteé with you?” the woman wanted to know. 

“No,” Sabé told her. “Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of hers. My name is Nadini.” 

“Are you the one she’s been visiting?” asked Teckla suspiciously. “She told us you were sick.”

“I was,” Nadini said. 

Sabé tightened her grip on her vibroblade, keeping her hand out of the woman’s line of sight. “We were given to understand that your illness was incurable.” 

Nadini dropped her gaze awkwardly, adding quietly, “It is. It…comes and goes. On good days I like to get out of the house.” She glanced up, pasting on a small smile. “I was hoping Moteé could meet me for lunch.”

Neither Sabé nor Teckla said it, but they were both aware that Moteé had told them she was making another visit that morning. Either Moteé was lying, or Nadini wasn’t who she claimed to be. 

“She’s working,” Sabé said. “But we’ll tell her you asked after her.” 

Nadini gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you, I’d appreciate that. I won’t keep you any longer.” She nodded to them both, spun on her heel and sauntered off in the direction of the Senate building. 

Sabé exchanged a glance with Teckla, whose expression betrayed her wariness. 

“Guess we need to speak to Moteé,” she spoke up.

Sabé nodded in agreement. “Something is definitely amiss.” 

“Are you two coming?” 

They turned, seeing that Padmé’s speeder had arrived and the senator was already boarding. 

“Sorry, M’lady,” Teckla apologised, hurrying to join her. 

“What was all that about?” Gregar asked as Sabé approached the vehicle.

“Tell you later.” 

Back at the apartment, there was nothing to do but continue with the day’s chores and wait for Moteé to return. Padmé spoke to Jago and Luma over the com, and Teckla sat in to take notes. While they were there, Sabé relayed everything to Gregar, who agreed that the encounter with Nadini was unusual to say the least. Moteé was not due back until evening. 

Sabé was on kitchen duty for dinner that day. Padmé had wanted to lessen her duties, but Sabé insisted on being kept busy. As See-Threepio bustled around her, taking crockery to the dining room, Gregar appeared in the doorway. Sabé noted his expression at once. A dart of cold dread shot through her heart. 

“No,” she muttered. 

He looked at her with compassion, saying gently, “There’s been another murder. A young lady named Keelé. She arrived here this morning from Corellia and was killed earlier this afternoon at her hotel. A service droid found her.”

Sabé swallowed, her mouth dry. “And…Daedrin?”

“At the Senate most of the day. It was the accomplice.” 

She had run out of things to say that she had not already said. 

“Just when we thought it had died down,” Gregar sighed. 

“We never thought it had ended, though,” Sabé pointed out. 

“True. I’ll let Padmé know when she’s done with her conference call. Moteé should be back by then too.” 

There was a beat of silence, then Sabé and Gregar glanced up at each other, both wearing the same wide-eyed look of disbelief. Sabé and Moteé didn’t always get along, but she didn’t want to believe that a fellow handmaiden could turn against the Order. There was no denying that the circumstances were suspicious, however. 

“I don’t want to think it of her,” Sabé said, wrapping her arms around herself, “and on a planet this populated, it seems absurd to think that the answer is on our doorstep, but…”

“We can’t rule it out,” Gregar finished for her. 

“No.” 

“She should be back soon,” he said, looking at his chrono, “we can confront her then. Gods know, I don’t want to have to do this, but we’d be remiss if we didn’t.”

“You’d better have some officers standing by. Just in case. She’s one of the best warriors I’ve ever seen.” 

“Agreed.” 

But it was not to be. Not fifteen minutes later, the HoloNet exploded with the news of a mass prison break. Among the prisoners missing: Moralo Eval, Cad Bane and Rako Hardeen. Sabé was not personally familiar with Bane, but she’d heard enough to know that his escape meant trouble. The com in her ear stayed irritatingly silent. 

Anakin arrived at the apartment before Moteé, insisting on ranting at Padmé, who did her best to soothe him. In a glance, Sabé and Gregar silently agreed that Moteé could wait. They’d just keep an eye on her until the right moment arrived.


	21. A Chaotic Festival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Continuing with the Clone Wars storylines, with a few minor changes for funsies.

**Chapter Twenty-One – A Chaotic Festival.**

 

“And there’s a handwritten letter here from the people in…I can’t read this…oh, the villages in the Gallo province. They say the limitations on their water rationing are becoming…uh, to be honest, M’lady, they haven’t put it very politely. Needless to say, they’re not happy.” 

Padmé nodded, pressing her fingertips to her eyes to try and bully her headache into submission. “Thank you, Jago, I’ve heard that from other sources too.” Lowering her hands, she glanced back at the holo projections of her Theed correspondents. “I don’t know what they think I can do about it, though,” she said helplessly. “Every planet in the Republic is making financial sacrifices. These are the unfortunate results. I don’t like it, but I have no solution.” 

Luma made a note on her data pad. “We’ll try and explain that as sympathetically as possible, M’lady.”

“Good. The least we can give them is sympathy.” She checked her chrono. “Was there anything else?”

“Nothing that can’t wait, M’lady,” Jago assured her. “Everything is ready for your arrival here this evening.”

Padmé managed a grateful smile. “Thank you. We’ll be on our way as soon as today’s session is over.”

Luma spoke up with uncustomary self-consciousness. “Um…is our daughter still accompanying you?”

“Yes, of course. Why?”

“She demanded we stay away after the death of Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Padmé nodded in understanding. “I’m sure that was just because she knew we’d be flying home for the festival. She probably didn’t want you to have to come here just to go straight back.”

Luma seemed slightly appeased. “We hoped that was the case. She’s shut us out before, though.” Appearing to sense Padmé’s discomfort at being caught between Sabé and her parents, Luma added, “Well, we look forward to seeing you later, M’lady. Have a safe trip.”

“Thank you, both.” 

They signed off. Padmé spent some time filing her notes, her heart sinking at the number of reports she had about insufficient supplies back home. Thank the gods that the Festival of Light was a relatively inexpensive event, one that brought hope and raised morale more than anything more material. 

She summoned Moteé to bring her a cup of caf. She had a lot to sift through before they were due to leave for the Senate. Moteé brought the tray up right away. Padmé noticed she was looking a little pale and stressed, but chose to keep her thoughts to herself. They all had their own stresses these days. 

“Have you seen Sabé?” she asked her, accepting the caf. 

“She’s in her room packing, M’lady,” Moteé replied. “Shall I fetch her?”

“No, that’s okay,” Padmé said, wrapping her hands around the cup’s warmth. “She needs to get that done. I’ll speak to her later. Thank you, Moteé.”

Moteé bowed and left her alone. Padmé reflected on her unhappy friend, hoping she was up to attending the festival. She’d asked to be kept busy, but asking her to attend a joyful occasion seemed cruel somehow. Still, she had to trust Sabé to know what she was capable of. She knew Anakin was dealing with his grief in the only way he knew how: chasing down those responsible for it. He’d told her what he was doing, adding that it was without the knowledge of the Jedi Council. Padmé wasn’t sure what to think. Hunting down Rako Hardeen was hardly the wisest course of action, but Anakin had a keen sense of revenge. Justice, he called it, but she knew what it truly was. She was only glad that Ahsoka had gone with him. 

Sabé’s reaction to the news had been strange. She’d looked concerned, but if Padmé didn’t know better, she could have sworn that the concern was not for Anakin but rather those he sought. 

Sipping her caf, Padmé pulled her thoughts away from Anakin and Sabé. If she didn’t get her work done, she’d never leave Coruscant on time.

***

Sabé was busy stuffing items into her suitcase when the com in her ear suddenly crackled. Startled, she dropped her make-up bag, spilling items all over the floor. 

“Sabé? Are you there?” The voice was rasping, unfamiliar, speaking with the wrong accent, but she knew who it had to be. 

“Yes! Yes, I’m here,” she said at once, falling to her knees to pick up her cosmetics. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Where are you?”

“Um…in the fresher, actually. It’s the only place I can be alone.” 

She laughed at that, mostly in relief that he was still alive. “Gods. It’s good to hear from you.” 

“Likewise,” he said. “I don’t have much time. We’re on our way to Serreno, to meet with Count Dooku. I believe I’ll need to prove my worth before they trust me with the plan for tomorrow.”

“You’re meeting with another Force user? Is that safe?”

“I’ll be careful,” he retorted at once. It was the only option, after all. “When are you heading to Naboo?”

“Tonight, after the Senate session,” Sabé answered, reaching under the bed for a stray lipstick. 

“I need you to scout out the location for me. I’m not going to have time to do it myself. Let me know if anything seems amiss.” 

“Will do,” she promised. “Will you contact me?”

“When I can. I also need to speak to Master Windu, but that’s a little more problematic.” 

“Why?” 

“If they trace the signal somehow, there’s no way I can explain contacting the Temple. But with you, I can simply say that I’ve been talking to my lover.” 

Sabé saw the sense in it, but she blushed a little at the thought of the truth of the statement. 

“Fair enough,” she said, keeping her voice level. 

“I should go,” he muttered. “You should be aware, Anakin knows I’m alive.”

Sabé’s eyes widened. “He does? Since when?”

“About half an hour ago. He’ll be on his way back to Coruscant by now. No doubt he’ll tell Padmé.”

“Okay. Thanks for the warning.” 

“I’ll talk to you when I can,” he told her. 

“All right. Be careful.” She bit her lip, afraid for him. 

“I will.” With a faint crackle, he cut the channel. 

Sabé sighed, still sitting on her bedroom floor, her cosmetics safely back in their bag. The fear was her constant shadow. She spent half of her time trying to ignore it, trying not to let it warp her imagination out of control. She knew she could easily think up multiple terrible situations that Obi-Wan might be facing. 

_Stop it_ , she told herself firmly, getting clumsily to her feet and depositing the make-up bag in the suitcase. She had hours to go before they left for Naboo. Until then, she just had to sit tight. 

***

Padmé was picking up some data pads from her office at the Senate when Anakin burst into the room, making her jump. 

“Gods, Anakin!” she exclaimed. “What’s gotten into you?” She took in his expression of fury, her heart sinking. Turning to the others, she said calmly, “Could we have the room, please?” 

The handmaidens nodded as one, heading for the door. 

“Not Sabé,” said Anakin brusquely. 

Sabé halted, one eyebrow raised inquisitively. She said nothing, simply falling back as the others left, the door sliding shut behind them. Padmé wondered if her husband was there to tell them he’d killed Obi-Wan’s murderer. 

Anakin watched the door close, then turned to her, saying hurriedly, “He’s alive. Obi-Wan’s alive. He’s undercover as Hardeen.” 

Padmé’s face broke out into a wide smile. “That’s wonderful!” she cried, beaming at Sabé. 

Sabé smiled too, but it was more reserved. In that instant, Padmé realised that Sabé had known all along. Her smile faltered. 

“Sabé?”

Sabé looked awkwardly guilty, meeting her gaze. “I…” She sighed. “I wasn’t permitted to say anything.” 

Anakin rounded on her. “You _knew_?” he said incredulously. 

“Yes, Anakin,” she replied, her voice quiet. “They didn’t want me to, Obi-Wan argued it.”

“Why?” His question was as sharp and quick as a blade. 

Wearily, she tried to explain it. “Obi-Wan felt it was his duty to inform me that I was still safe, seeing as his main assignment is to protect me.” 

“What about me?” Anakin yelled. “I’m supposed to be his best friend! He couldn’t even let me know he was okay?” 

Padmé stepped in, ever the peacemaker. “Our reactions must have been what sold the illusion.”

Sabé nodded wordlessly.

Anakin turned his glowering gaze on her. “We could have faked it. If _she_ could, then why not me?”

“The Jedi Council always has its reasons, Anakin,” Padmé told him softly. 

“They don’t trust me,” he barked, jabbing a finger in Sabé’s direction, “but they trust _her_? How can you even think that’s right?” 

Sabé raised her eyebrows, looking mildly affronted, and Padmé fixed him with a frown. 

Fractionally calming, Anakin glanced back at Sabé. “Look, no offence,” he said ineptly. “But…the way they treat me isn’t fair.” 

“But Padmé is right,” Sabé said coolly, “they _do_ have their reasons. Do you have any idea how unwilling they were to let me know? If Obi-Wan wasn’t so duty-bound, they would never–”

“Ugh, it doesn’t matter,” Anakin interrupted, throwing up his hands. “I just wanted to tell you both not to worry, but it seems I’m two days too late. If you’ll excuse me, I have to speak to the Council.” 

Padmé inwardly sighed, placing her palms flat on her desk. “I’ll see you on Naboo,” she said to his back, “when you escort the Chancellor.” 

“Yeah,” he muttered. “See you then.” The door slid closed behind him. 

Padmé pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a long breath. “This can’t go on,” she murmured. “We meet five times, we argue for three of them.”

Sabé said nothing. Padmé knew her opinion anyway. It would do no good to hear it repeated. 

“I understand why you couldn’t say anything,” she told her friend. “I don’t like it, but I understand it.”

“I didn’t like it either,” Sabé assured her. “And that’s an understatement. But…it was necessary.” 

Padmé nodded. That was life, especially in war time. 

“Come on, we’ve got a ship to catch,” she said. “Let’s just hope that whatever Obi-Wan is doing pays off.” 

***

Sabé slipped away from the others once they reached Theed, keen to check out the place where the festival would be held. It was a circular outdoor stage not far from the small temple in the palace grounds. It was most often used for open air plays for the amusement of the reigning monarch, or medal presentations for the security forces. In the light of day, devoid of people and props, it seemed fairly harmless. But it was also open and exposed, and like all outdoor locations, a nightmare for the security team. 

The com in her right ear buzzed. 

“Typho to Sabé, do you copy?”

“Sabé here,” she answered. 

“Where are you?” He sounded exasperated. 

“Just checking out the stage for tomorrow,” she said honestly. “Why?”

“Your parents are looking for you.” 

Sabé rolled her eyes. “Of course they are. I’ll be right there. Just…charm them or something.”

Gregar gave a snort. “Yeah right. Just get your ass back here pronto.”

“Will do,” she promised. “And the rest of me too.”

“Typho out.”

Sabé searched the multitude of windows and balconies that looked down on the stage, frowning to herself. A security shield for the main area was all very well, but still it was vulnerable. Shields could be deactivated, after all. 

She sighed, beginning the walk back. As usual, the com in her left ear remained silent. 

***

The following day passed agonisingly slowly. The Chancellor arrived in the early afternoon, accompanied by Anakin, Ahsoka, and Mace Windu. Anakin was still stony-faced, but he seemed calmer, something for which they were all grateful. Sabé stood diligently on duty throughout the day, waiting for Obi-Wan to contact her, but there was nothing. 

Two hours before the start of the festival, she was starting to get anxious. And then, mercifully, her com gave a subtle beep. 

Bending to whisper in Padmé’s ear, she excused herself and left the formal gathering of Queen Neeyutnee’s guests. Once safely alone, she activated the com. 

“Yes?” she said breathlessly, jogging down the palace corridors. 

“Hi, dollface,” came Rako Hardeen’s drawl. 

Her surprise slowed her down for a moment. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just wanted you to know that I’m finishing up a job. Should be home by tomorrow.”

Figuring out what Obi-Wan was doing, she said, “Is that relevant?” She gave him a moment to reply, then added, “Or are you just selling the illusion?”

“Yeah,” he answered at once. “Can’t wait to see you either. Did you get that thing I asked for?”

“Yes. It’s a horrible location to cover, but there should be plenty of guards around.” 

“You’re the best.” 

She couldn’t help but smile at the bizarre conversation. It was difficult to imagine Obi-Wan saying any of it. “Are you being listened to?” she asked.

“Not sure yet.” 

“Any way you can tell me the plan?”

“I can’t do that, baby,” he said, sounding disappointed. 

Sabé wrinkled her nose at the term of endearment. It sounded all wrong. 

“I wish you were here too,” he went on. “I got a pretty great view right now, but you’d definitely improve things.”

“Okay,” she surmised, thinking quickly, “so…you’re somewhere overlooking the plaza?”

“Definitely.” 

“Any more help would be appreciated,” she told him. “There are a dozen places where you could be.” 

His voice took on a playful tone. “Aww come on, you can’t distract me like that. I got a job to do, can’t have some _goddess_ taking my mind off it, can I?” 

“You’re in the temple?” she guessed, hearing the way he subtly stressed the key words.

“Nah, it would be the _opposite_ to that.”

Grinning, Sabé said, “You’re in the tower opposite the temple.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m on my way.”

“Look, I gotta go, doll. We’ll catch up when I get back, okay?”

“All right, don’t overdo it,” she scolded lightly as she ran. 

“You too. Bye.” 

Unsure exactly where Eval’s men might be, Sabé slipped into the first secret passage she came to, taking the dusty, labyrinthine paths up to the tower. There was nowhere that the network of tunnels did _not_ go, and she was thankful for her extensive knowledge of them. She emerged at the bottom of the stairs, racing up them two at a time. Obi-Wan was waiting for her outside the topmost room. For a split second she was startled, having almost forgotten what he looked like. He put a finger to his lips before she could say a word, beckoning her closer. He moved until they were toe to toe, and she looked at him with startled eyes, wondering if his play acting on the com had gone to his head. Pushing back her hood, he leaned forward as if to kiss her neck and she felt her heartbeat speed up, her mouth going dry. He may look different, but he was still Obi-Wan Kenobi, and she couldn’t help noticing that he smelled the same. 

His breath was warm on her skin as he whispered in her ear, so softly it barely qualified as a whisper. “I might be bugged. I don’t want to take any chances.”

Sabé nodded. 

“There are six of us, including Eval,” he went on. “He’s the getaway driver. The others are in charge of deactivating the shield and kidnapping the Chancellor.”

“What about you?” she breathed. 

“I’m tasked with immobilising the Chancellor with a stun round. Three of the bounty hunters are armed with holographic disguises. They’ll appear as Senate guards. Get to Mace Windu, let him know to double check everyone’s identity. And keep an eye on the shield generator. I’m not sure it would be wise for me to break cover even at this point.” 

“Consider it done.” 

“Above all, bear in mind that Dooku is here somewhere,” he told her, breath tickling her neck. “He’s due to meet us at a rendezvous point after we have the Chancellor, but the devices we’ve been given won’t tell us where until the right moment.” 

Sabé nodded again. “I’ll tell Master Windu.”

She felt him nod in return. “Good luck.”

“You too,” she said, smiling impishly as she added, “…dollface.”

He drew back to send her an unamused look. She simply smirked benevolently, raising her eyebrows. She trotted back down the stairs, darting through the passages back to where she’d left Padmé. Anakin had assigned Ahsoka as the senator’s personal bodyguard, and the Togruta teenager had been following them around all afternoon. 

The Queen’s guests were engaging in an informal drinks party when she reached them, so nobody really noticed as she entered the room at a jog, skidding to a halt at Padmé’s side. 

“There you are!” her friend said, bemused. “Where have you been?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sabé panted, turning to Ahsoka. “Padawan Tano, do you know where I can find Master Windu?” 

“Last I heard he was scoping out the stage,” Ahsoka replied, looking at her curiously. 

“Sabé, what are you up to?” Padmé addressed her sternly.

“Don’t ask. I’ll be back.” She took off again, passing Luma on her way out the door. 

“Syrena!”

“Not now, Mother.” 

She found Mace Windu giving orders to the guards, and she slowed to a walk before she approached him. 

“Can I help you, Lady Sabé?” he asked, his countenance its usual mixture of sternness and cool detachment, coupled with the faint air of distrust that she often picked up from him.

“No,” she said lightly, ignoring it, “but I can help you. Might I have a word?” 

Waving the guards away, he led her over to the railing looking out over the waterfall and forest, far below. 

In a low voice, she relayed everything Obi-Wan had said, making sure to include his reasoning for not contacting the Jedi directly. Windu took it all in with a keen expression.

“Okay,” he said when she was finished. “Leave it with me. Let me know if he contacts you again.”

“Of course.” She dipped him a quick bow before heading back inside. As she crossed the plaza, she could not help flicking her eyes up at the tower where she knew Obi-Wan was waiting, knowing that her hood would shade her face from any observers. She couldn’t see anything amiss, but she felt sure his gaze was on her all the same. 

Her other com beeped again, demanding attention. 

“Sabé here,” she answered. 

“This is Typho. Where–”

“I’m coming back now,” she cut him off wearily. 

“Sabé, _what_ are you doing?”

“Gregar,” she said in a warning tone, “you know better than to ask that kind of question, considering.”

She knew he’d understand her cryptic words, especially now that he was updated on the basics of Obi-Wan’s mission. 

“Right,” she heard him sigh. 

“I’m behind you,” she said, signing off, seeing him standing in the doorway ahead of her. 

He turned, throwing his arms up in a kind of helpless gesture. “Should I be worried?” he asked her as she drew closer. 

“No.”

“You sound very sure.” 

“Padmé isn’t the target,” she reminded him. “And I’m not involved in any plan, I’m just…the messenger.” 

Shrugging, looking as if he was giving up, he moved to go back inside. “Well, come on then, messenger. You’re supposed to be on duty.” 

“Yes…sorry.” 

As they walked through the corridors, he hissed at her, “Is he okay?”

Shooting him a sidelong glance, she nodded. “For now.” 

***

Darkness fell within the hour, and soon Queen Neeyutnee and Chancellor Palpatine were leading the procession of dignitaries outside to the plaza. Padmé walked with Bail Organa and Governor Sio Bibble, their respective retinues following on behind. Everyone took their places on the tiered seats around the perimeter of the stage. The Chancellor walked to the podium in the centre, looking a curious mix of stubborn, confident, and a touch wary. 

Once everyone was settled, the ray shield was activated, a smooth, transparent blue bubble encasing everyone inside the circle of the stage. Sabé noted the position of the Jedi and the guards, a combination of personnel from the palace and the Senate. Annoyingly, from her seat behind Padmé, she had her back to Obi-Wan. She had managed to find a moment to inform Padmé that she might have to take off, and her friend had simply rolled her eyes before agreeing. 

“It is an honour to be here on this momentous occasion,” Palpatine began, drawing her attention. 

Temporary platforms full of guests hovered on the outside of the ray shield, a guard or two spaced among them. 

“The pride I feel for this planet cannot be put into words. Eight-hundred and forty-seven years ago, Naboo joined the Republic, and tonight we celebrate that union.”

The audience clapped, and Sabé automatically joined in, keeping her eyes peeled. 

“Take a moment and look around this glorious city of yours,” the Chancellor continued. “It wasn’t long ago this was all plasma mines. Naboo has indeed come a long way. But as we chart a bold course for the future, let us never forget our past!” 

Tapping a few switches on the podium, the Chancellor turned to the sky, arms raised. Fireworks split the night asunder, filling the area with coloured light while ceremonial music played. All heads looked upwards, except, Sabé noted, the Jedi, most of the guards, and her. 

“Sabé,” came Obi-Wan’s false voice in her ear. “East side! The security guard on the stairs!” 

Sabé leapt to her feet, drawing an annoyed cry from the man behind her. “Anakin!” she yelled. “The shield generator!” 

At her words, he shot into action, running across the plaza towards the bounty hunter who was somehow managing to reach an arm through the ray shield. With a yank of wires, he rendered it useless and it exploded, knocking Anakin and Palpatine off their feet. The shield fizzled out. As one, the audience got to their feet, gasping and talking amongst themselves. Mace Windu rushed to the fallen Chancellor, giving orders to the guards, while Ahsoka directed the Queen and the dignitaries to safety. 

“Sabé, go with them,” Obi-Wan ordered her, evidently seeing her hesitate. “I’ll speak directly to Mace.” 

Biting down her instinct to argue, Sabé agreed, knowing she was doing so purely to give him peace of mind. She picked up her skirts and hurried after Padmé and the others. Ahsoka barricaded them into the room they’d been socialising in beforehand, lightsabers poised but not activated. Sabé was the last one in, and Padmé, Gregar and her parents looked pleased to see her there. 

Ahsoka studied her with an appraising look that made her seem older than her years. “You’ve been in contact with Obi-Wan, haven’t you?” she said. “That’s why you called to Anakin.” 

“Yes,” Sabé admitted. “He thought contacting me would be easier to explain away if he got caught. I could have played the part of Rako Hardeen’s girlfriend.” 

Ahsoka nodded thoughtfully. “He can always be counted on to think three steps ahead.” 

Jago broke through the crowd, Luma at his side. “Syrena,” he said tiredly, “do you want to explain exactly _what_ is going on?” 

Realising that she really couldn’t escape it this time, Sabé reluctantly nodded. “All right, all right.” 

***

Bone tired and utterly fed up of life as Rako Hardeen, Obi-Wan was grateful to escort Chancellor Palpatine back to the palace with Anakin and Mace. He was greeted by a sea of familiar faces when they got there: Queen Neeyutnee, Sio Bibble, Jar Jar Binks, Bail Organa, Jago, Luma, Gregar, Padmé, Moteé, Teckla, Ahsoka. They all blurred before him, but for one that stood out: Sabé, hovering behind Padmé, looking as if she was trying very hard to temper her relief at seeing him unhurt. 

He wanted nothing more than to sleep, to spend some time alone without looking over his shoulder, but the Queen insisted on all the Jedi joining them for dinner so she could hear their story. Of course, he was the one doing most of the telling. Anakin glared his way through a lot of it, but there was more understanding in his expression than Obi-Wan would have expected. No doubt he’d vented his annoyance at being left out already. 

“The bounty hunters were evidently expecting Count Dooku to show up,” Mace Windu was saying, now that they had reached the point in the story where he could step in. “He didn’t. We assume he got a tip-off and fled.” 

“That probably happened when I compromised my cover,” Obi-Wan surmised. “It seemed a wise decision at the time.” 

“I certainly cannot argue with the results, Master Kenobi,” Chancellor Palpatine put in. 

Obi-Wan acknowledged his words with a bow of his head. His eyes sought Sabé's. She stood at the sidelines with Moteé and Teckla, beside five silent handmaidens of the Queen's. She offered him a tiny smile, her expression seeming to indicate that she was sympathetic to how he was feeling. 

He took a sip of wine, feeling it pass uncomfortably over the vocal emulator in his throat. He really needed to take it out, but there hadn't been an opportunity so far. It wasn't something one could do at the dinner table, especially in the presence of royalty. 

The rest of the evening passed by at a steady, if not exactly fast, pace, and Obi-Wan found himself finally being escorted to a guest room. His first course of action was to extract the emulator, trying not to gag as it crawled its way up and out of his mouth. He cleared his throat, speaking a few words aloud to adjust. 

Sitting gratefully down on the bed, he thought of Sabé and how they had barely been able to exchange two words to each other since the kidnap attempt. He found he very much wanted to speak to her, to let her ground him, to let her remind him that he could be himself again. It had been a very long three days. He'd sensed some traces of unease from the guests at dinner. Clearly it was surreal for them to see someone else in his place, to hear his words from someone else's voice. Sabé had never stopped seeing him as him, once she'd got over the initial shock. He'd sensed her reaction when he'd whispered the plan to her. It had been unwise to move so close to her, considering, but he'd had no choice. Sabé was a consummate professional, of course, but she was still human. She'd reacted to his proximity despite his disguise. 

He remembered the scent of her hair, the fresh fragrance of her shampoo, and the warmth of her cheek almost touching his. He'd heard her soft intake of breath as he drew closer. He'd put it out of his mind. It was safer that way. 

_Your thoughts betray you_ , he told himself, as he'd once told Anakin. 

Obi-Wan recalled his answer to Satine when she'd asked him that loaded question. _"Do you love her?" "I don't know."_ He suspected that truthfully, deep down, the answer to that question was becoming more definite. He'd been falling for some time, deeper than he could have imagined. 

_You're such a hypocrite, Kenobi._

He sensed a discomforting ripple in the Force, as if it didn't like him berating himself. That was confusing, to say the least, since he'd thought he was trying to abide by the Code. Closing his eyes, he reached out to it, feeling it swirling around him like dust particles glistening in sunlight. 

_I don't understand. Please show me what you want from me._

There was no definitive answer, of course. The Force didn't work that way. Obi-Wan hoped that the truth would come to him in time. And in the meantime...he still wanted to talk to Sabé. With a burst of inspiration, he remembered the com in his ear, patching it to her frequency. 

Within a few moments, she answered. "Obi-Wan? Gods, you scared me. Somehow I'd forgotten I was still wearing this thing. Not sure how, it's hardly comfortable." 

He chuckled. "I'm sorry to alarm you." 

"Oh, it's good to hear your voice," she exclaimed. 

He could picture her smile. "It's good to have it back. Vocal emulators are not fun." 

"I can imagine," she said with feeling. “Handy tech, though. I wish we’d had them back in the decoy days.”

“Your mimicry was perfect,” he complimented her warmly.

“Why thank you,” she replied, her tone playful despite the formal-sounding words. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?" 

"I wanted to talk to you," he told her truthfully. "I didn't think it would be appropriate to sneak in and do so in person." 

She laughed. "I love that you think of propriety after we've been married all this time." 

"You know what I mean," he grumbled, although he was not really annoyed. 

"I do," she admitted, still sounding amused. "Are you okay?"

He took a breath, thinking back over everything he'd been through, everything he'd had to do to maintain his cover. "Yes, I think so." 

"Good," Sabé said simply. He suspected she felt it more keenly than the single word implied. 

"How about you?" he asked. "You heard about my exploits over dinner but I haven't heard yours."

"Not sure 'exploits' is the right word,” she ruminated. “But I do have a few things to report.”

In a worried tone, she told him how she and Teckla had met a strange woman outside the Senate, which now led herself and Gregar to suspect Moteé of lying about something. She explained about the latest murder, which had occurred the same day, and Daedrin’s alibi, sounding exasperated that the Jedi Council still hadn’t done anything to stop him. Obi-Wan understood her frustration, but the situation was delicate. Daedrin was a favourite of Palpatine’s, and the relationship between the Chancellor and the Jedi was tenuous at best. The Republic needed the Jedi as much as it needed the Chancellor, and it needed them to work together. There was more at stake than just the lives of the Order of Sanctuary, however harsh it seemed. Sabé grasped that, he knew, but the losses pained her all the same. 

“How did this woman react when you mentioned that she was supposed to have an incurable illness?” he asked. 

“She was…embarrassed,” Sabé told him. “Awkward, saddened. A…normal reaction, I guess. If it were me, I wouldn’t want to talk about it with strangers either.” 

Curious, he said, “What does your instinct tell you?”

Sabé paused for a moment, apparently considering her answer. “Moteé is hiding something. But…whether it’s this? I don’t know. We could be jumping to conclusions because we want answers.” 

“Have you talked to her?”

“No,” she replied at once. “Things kicked off, there was no time.” 

“Hmm. Well, I suppose it will keep until we get back.” 

“Yes,” Sabé agreed. After a brief silence, she changed the subject. “So, when are you becoming you again?”

“When we get back to the Temple,” Obi-Wan said, running a hand over his bald head. “I’m looking forward to it, I must admit. Being a criminal is exhausting.” 

“Yes, and I’m not sure about that tattoo.” 

“Oh, really?” He dropped a touch of regret into his tone. “I was thinking about getting it done when I’m back to normal.” 

“Well,” she said, sounding disapproving, “good luck explaining that one to the Council.” 

He let out a short laugh. “Lady Sabé, I’m disappointed at your lack of faith in me.”

“Master Kenobi, you mistake me,” she retorted, her smile evident in her voice. “You are the Negotiator, after all, and that takes a lot of skill, does it not? Dollface.” 

He groaned. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“No,” she said succinctly, sounding rather pleased with herself, “no, I’m not.” 

Obi-Wan sighed, but he was smiling. “Just be thankful,” he told her. “There are many names a lot worse than that one.” 

“That’s a good point,” she conceded. 

He heard her stifle a yawn. “Get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

She yielded without argument. “Okay. Same goes for you.”

“Good night. And thank you for your help.” 

“You’re welcome,” she said warmly. “Good night.”

Obi-Wan signed off, pulling the com from his ear. In the sudden silence, it was difficult not to dwell on how much the conversation had improved his mood. 

_That’s what friends do_ , he reminded himself. 

But he knew that Sabé was more than that. She would always be more than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I've never entirely understood why Bail Organa was present at a Naboo festival, but I wouldn't begrudge him an evening out. Also, in the original episode, Obi-Wan maintains the vocal emulator until the end, even though a lot of time has passed and he doesn't need it anymore. I thought I'd make it more comfortable for him.


	22. Secrets and Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Guys, I have one week left at a job I hate! I may post another chapter next weekend to celebrate. We'll see.
> 
> More Clone Wars content and dialogue in the first half of this chapter.

**Chapter Twenty-Two – Secrets and Consequences.**

 

The following morning, the Chancellor sent all the excess security staff back to Coruscant ahead of him, a decision that Mace Windu counselled against. But Palpatine would not be dissuaded, claiming that Anakin was all the security he required now that the threat was over. Mace had no choice but to accept it, but it was plain to see that he was not happy. 

Obi-Wan and Anakin had a chance to catch up after lunch, taking a walk around the palace grounds while arrangements were made to travel back. 

“When are you going to change back?” Anakin asked as they went. “This is…all kinds of wrong.” 

“Oh, trust me,” he replied sincerely, “it will be one of the first things I do when I get to the Temple. It will be a relief to shed the skin of Rako Hardeen.” 

“If I’d known what was going on, I could have helped you,” Anakin said, frowning. “Too bad the Council didn’t trust me.” 

Obi-Wan studied him, startled, although, he supposed his old Padawan wasn’t wrong. The Council didn’t trust the flimsy hold Anakin had over his emotions. If he was being brutally honest with himself, Obi-Wan didn’t trust it either. He wished it was otherwise. He’d tried, but some things simply could not be taught, and Anakin was incapable of being anything other than he was. 

“Anakin, you can’t just blame the Council,” Obi-Wan told him gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It was also my decision to keep the truth from you. I knew that if you were convinced I was dead, Dooku would believe it as well.” 

“Your decision?” Anakin repeated, rounding on him, incredulous and indignant.

“Look, I know I did some questionable things, but I did what I had to do,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “I hope you can understand that.” And he did. He hoped it fervently, because if Anakin couldn’t understand _that_ , he was wasting his time. 

“You lied to me,” Anakin snapped. “How many other lies have I been told by the Council? And how do you know that _you_ even have the whole truth?” Without waiting for an answer, he stormed off back towards the palace. 

Obi-Wan sighed deeply, folding his arms. There was an uncomfortable element of accuracy in Anakin’s words. But it was a rare being who agreed with absolutely everything the Jedi stood for. There were always things that sparked doubt and reassessment, but overall Obi-Wan believed in the Jedi Order and its purpose. He could get by on that, even if he didn’t like all of it. He trusted in the Force. That was what really mattered. The Force was telling him that there was something significant to be found in Anakin’s outburst. 

_“How do you know that you even have the whole truth?”_

Something was amiss. He’d sensed it ever since arriving on Naboo and had been surprised to find that it hadn’t gone away even after the arrest of the bounty hunters. Then it hit him. Dooku’s conspicuous absence was all wrong. Everyone had been so engrossed in the Chancellor’s safety that they hadn’t really spared a thought for the missing Sith Lord, or where - _if_ \- he might be hiding. 

Deep in thought, Obi-Wan went to the hangar where the Jedi ship sat, entering the command centre and pulling up a holo map on the main console. He rotated it so he could study the hangar that he had entered with the bounty hunters and Dooku, tracing all routes from it and where they led. Mace Windu found him there, approaching him with a quizzical look. 

“Something still bothering you?”

“Yes,” he admitted, raising a hand to his chin, still a little surprised to find only stubble. “Something Anakin said has me worried. Do we know the whole truth?” 

Mace sent him a frown. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m not sure yet,” Obi-Wan said. “Is the Chancellor ready to leave?”

“No. He’ll be leaving after dinner. The Queen invited him to stay.” Mace’s expression was all irritation. Yet again, he clearly didn’t agree with Palpatine’s decision. 

Obi-Wan took in the news with concern. If the Chancellor was staying for another few hours, then that was just more time for something else to go wrong. 

“I think I’ll see if I can persuade Senator Amidala to stay,” Obi-Wan elected. “There’s something I want to check.”

“And your ride back is with her,” Mace surmised. 

“Yes, I thought I should travel with Sabé.” Turning to go, he added, “I’ll see you back at the Temple.” 

Mace nodded and Obi-Wan left the ship. He found Gregar near Padmé’s Nubian cruiser, chatting to one of his men. The captain turned to greet him, the other officer heading up the ramp. 

“I…can’t get used to you like that,” he said, face scrunched in an expression of distaste. 

“Only a few more hours, I’m told,” Obi-Wan replied with a quick smile. “Where can I find Padmé? I need to see if she’d be willing to extend her stay.”

“Funny you should say that. She’ll be a couple of hours more. She gave Moteé and Teckla leave to visit their families and she’s doing the same.”

Obi-Wan nodded at the fortunate turn of events. “That’s good.”

Gregar studied him. “Something wrong?”

“Hopefully not. I just need to check a few things. Where’s Sabé?” 

“Sleeping, I think.” 

Side-tracked, Obi-Wan frowned, confused. “Sleeping? This late in the afternoon?”

“I don’t think she sleeps well these days,” Gregar said with a shrug. “From what she’s said.” 

Obi-Wan had been aware of that, but he’d hoped the problem had lessened. “I’ll leave her where she is then,” he said aloud. “Thank you, Gregar.”

The captain nodded to him. Obi-Wan set off for the hangar he’d used the previous day, retracing his steps from there up to the tower. He conducted a thorough search of the room before considering the case that his sniper rifle had been packed in. There, tucked down the side of the moulded inner padding, was a comlink. 

_So they_ were _listening_ , he thought, throwing the com out of the open balcony door. 

Outside, the sun was just starting to set. The view would have been impressive if he’d been in the mood to appreciate it. 

_If Dooku is still here, he would know by now that most of the security detail has left…_

Painfully aware that Anakin could be the only thing between the Chancellor and the Sith Lord, Obi-Wan took off at a run, pelting down the stairs of the tower. With a sinking heart, he realised he had an entire palace to search. He began in a wing far away from where the Queen was, doubting that Dooku would risk attracting the attention of her guards. 

Running down the empty, dimly lit corridors, he kept an ear out for chatter or worse. He turned a corner and collided with Sabé, sensing her at the last moment and gripping her arms to lessen the impact. 

She gasped, swearing, clutching his elbows to steady herself. “Gods, Obi-Wan, you run quietly!” she scolded. 

“Likewise. Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she dismissed quickly. “I was looking for you. Someone’s been using the secret passages. I was still in my room and I heard them in the walls. No one should be hanging around at this time of day, it’s twenty minutes until dinner.” 

Normally, Obi-Wan would have wanted to account for every palace staff member before concluding that an intruder was using the passages, but it was unnecessary: he knew who it was. 

“Where is the Chancellor?” he asked urgently. 

“I haven’t seen him. Isn’t he with the Queen?” 

“I don’t think so. He said the Queen had invited him to dinner, yet he’s not at the dining hall. Is there anywhere else where he might be, somewhere that he might be misdirected to?” 

Sabé bit her lip as she considered. “There’s a banqueting hall in the west wing, but it’s hardly ever used.” 

Letting her go, he said, “Can you take me there?”

She nodded at once. “This way.” 

They dashed away, keeping side by side, Sabé leading by a scant few inches. Eventually they reached the point where direction was no longer necessary. The sound of clashing lightsabers echoed down the corridors, bringing them to a halt. 

“I think I can find my way from here,” Obi-Wan said wryly. 

“I think you’re probably right,” Sabé added. 

He turned to her, saying intensely, “Don’t follow me.”

She looked torn but agreed, for which he was grateful. As capable as she was, she was no match for a Sith. Fortunately, she knew it. 

“I’ll fetch the Palace Guard,” she declared. “Be careful.” 

He squeezed her shoulder briefly, then headed off towards the sound of battle. He rounded a corner just in time to see Anakin crouching on the floor, remnants of smoke around him indicating that he’d once again been a victim of Dooku’s Force lightning. Ahead, the Sith Lord and his droid guard were backing up the steps with the Chancellor. 

Obi-Wan skidded to a stop by his friend’s side. “Are you all right?” 

Shaking off his supporting hand, Anakin got to his feet. “Come on!” he barked. 

Together, they hurried after Dooku, eventually emerging on a small platform where a ship hovered, waiting. The Chancellor had already been dragged up the ramp, Count Dooku following closely. With a grunt, Anakin leapt the entire length of the platform, landing on the ramp to engage Dooku once more. Obi-Wan ran after him, taking on the droid, cutting it in half and kicking it off the ramp into the dark oblivion below. Deactivating his lightsaber, he escorted the Chancellor back down to the platform, helping him jump the short distance the departing ship had created. Dooku kicked Anakin down after them, and he landed on his feet, glaring up at the Sith Lord. 

“Well done, Master Kenobi,” Dooku called down tonelessly. “You are a worthy adversary. I cannot say the same about your young apprentice.” With a flourish of his blade, he stepped back and let the ship’s door close, cutting him off from view. 

Anakin bristled, deactivating his lightsaber with an angry snap of his hand. 

“He’s just trying to goad you,” Obi-Wan assured him. 

“You think?” Anakin said sarcastically. 

“Pay it no mind.” 

With a clatter of running footsteps the Palace Guard arrived, Sabé and Padmé in their midst. Padmé immediately hurried to Palpatine.

“Chancellor, are you all right?” she asked, helping Anakin lift the old man to his feet. 

“Yes,” he said with some relief, “thanks again to the heroics of the Jedi. That’s the second time in as many days!” 

“We specialise in heroics, Chancellor,” Obi-Wan said lightly. 

Anakin met Palpatine’s gaze. “As long as I live, no harm will ever come to you, Your Excellency.” 

The Chancellor seemed both touched and amused. “Hmm,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “Well, here’s to your long and prosperous life, Anakin. One shudders to think where the galaxy would be without the Jedi.” 

Padmé escorted him inside, Anakin at their heels. Sabé and Obi-Wan headed in together. 

“I bumped into Padmé on my way,” Sabé explained. “Just as well. Her word holds more weight with the Palace Guard than mine. Seems like you had everything under control though." 

"One tries one's best," Obi-Wan replied, reaching out to the Force. The sense of unease was lessening the further Count Dooku's ship flew. 

"Is it over now?" Sabé asked him. 

He shot her a cordial look. "I think so. Back to normality." 

"Yes, speaking of, let's get you back to the Jedi Temple. This face has character but yours is nicer." Her eyes widened a little as she realised what she'd said, and she looked away, biting her lip. 

Obi-Wan smiled to himself, resisting the urge to pull her up on it, knowing she would be embarrassed. Cringing, she peered up and met his gaze, taking in his rather restrained smirk. Then she let out a burst of mortified laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. He chuckled with her. There was a world of understanding in the looks that passed between them, speaking more of what they knew of their feelings for each other than had ever been said aloud. 

When they caught up with Padmé and the others, Obi-Wan could see the senator scrutinising their expressions, clearly wondering what joke they were sharing. She would wonder for a while. The mutual attraction between himself and Sabé was something that needed to remain unspoken. Especially as he was still unsure quite how to handle the situation. Sabé seemed relatively happy carrying on as normal, but he was not naïve enough to believe that it could last. Sooner or later it would take its toll on her. He appreciated her determination though. It was touching that she was so adamant not to make things difficult or complicated for him. 

Gregar was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. He bowed when he saw Padmé and the Chancellor. “The ship is ready when you are, M’lady.” 

“Thank you, Captain. I’ll be right there.” Turning to Palpatine, she added, “Will you stay, Chancellor?” 

“I believe my time here has come to an end,” the Chancellor decided. “There is only so much excitement I can take. Anakin, my boy, I’m ready to leave as soon as I bid the Queen goodbye.” 

“Very good, Your Excellency,” Anakin said with a bow. 

Padmé smiled, clasping her hands. “We’ll see you back on Coruscant then. Safe journey.” 

“You too, Senator.” 

_Boring journey would be a nice change_ , Obi-Wan thought to himself, for once feeling confident that would get his wish. One step closer to leaving Rako Hardeen behind. 

***

Anakin was rather surprised when Chancellor Palpatine joined him in the cockpit of the ship once they had jumped to lightspeed. With a single authoritative gesture, he sent away the co-pilot, taking his seat with a warm smile. It was a strange sight, seeing the regal politician at the controls of a ship, even though he wasn't planning on using them. In fact, Anakin wasn't even sure he knew how. 

"Everything okay, Chancellor?" he asked. 

"Oh yes," Palpatine said cheerfully. "I just find being a passenger can be rather dull."

Anakin laughed, agreeing with the sentiments wholeheartedly. "Well, I'm afraid the view is going to be pretty much this for the next few hours," he said apologetically, waving a hand at the brightness of hyperspace. 

"Better than no view at all, my boy, I assure you." 

"I can believe that." 

The Chancellor fixed him with a piercing look, his expression open and friendly. "To be honest with you, Anakin, I wanted to see if you were all right." 

Anakin turned to him in surprise. "Thank you, but I'm fine. Why?" 

"You've seemed...rather out of sorts during our time on Naboo." Palpatine said with concern. "I wondered if perhaps it had something to do with Master Kenobi's disguise." 

Anakin's lips twitched in a tiny smile as Palpatine spoke. The Chancellor was the only person who seemed to really understand how he felt. Padmé did her best, but she sometimes got it wrong, and Obi-Wan was always so resolute about doing things by the book. 

"I don't want to burden you with my problems, Your Excellency," he spoke up after a beat. 

"Nonsense," Palpatine dismissed. "You know I always do my best to help you where I can. I understand that the Jedi generally discourage talking about their feelings, but you are the Chosen One. The same rules do not necessarily apply." 

Anakin wasn't sure that that was true, but he was feeling too bitter to care. "I just...don't understand why the Council doesn't trust me. If I'd known what Obi-Wan was up to, I could have helped him." 

The Chancellor gave a sympathetic sigh. "I'm afraid I will never comprehend the way the Council decides things, Anakin. But then, I'm not a Jedi. Perhaps there is something I'm missing. The only advice I can give you is to be true to yourself, rather than trying to please others. I fear attempting to please the Council will only lead you to more frustration. You have proven time and again that your judgement is sound." 

"Thank you for saying so, Your Excellency," Anakin muttered, feeling a little of his resentment start to crumble away at the reassuring words. "I do understand that sometimes unpleasant things have to be done for the good of the mission, but...when I found out that even Sabé knew before I did...someone who isn't even a Jedi..."

Palpatine looked mildly surprised at the news. "Really? I wasn't aware of that." He folded his arms, tucking his hands inside his voluminous sleeves. "Well...I suppose Master Kenobi takes his duty very seriously." Shooting Anakin a sidelong glance, he added, "Unless...I hate to suggest it, but are we sure there isn't anything inappropriate going on there?"

"No, it wouldn't be that," Anakin answered at once. "She's not the one he..." He cut himself off, unwilling to betray Obi-Wan's feelings for Duchess Satine. "...uh...well, never mind. He did say it was because of duty. It just...I don't know. Seems wrong." 

"Hmm," the Chancellor murmured, looking thoughtful. "It is a sad day when someone we trust lets us down. However, you must bear in mind that Master Kenobi is not all powerful, and you must forgive him for the occasional mistake." 

Anakin nodded, humbled by the Chancellor's calm logic and sense. "I know. It's just...easier said than done." 

"Very true. But that is a battle we must all face every day. You are more than capable of it." 

"I'm very grateful for your faith in me, Chancellor," Anakin said respectfully. "And for your support, as always." 

"That," Palpatine said with a smile, "you shall always have. Being in a position of power, above your peers, can be isolating. I understand that better than most. The least I can do is help make sure you never feel the same way I have." 

As he'd speculated many times before, Anakin wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve the kind encouragement the Chancellor always offered him, but he was thankful to have it. There had been many occasions, too many to count, when Palpatine's wisdom had helped him work through a situation. He wondered what the Chancellor's advice would be if he confided in him about Padmé. That was the one topic he'd never dared to speak of, but it was also the one thing for which he most needed guidance. Fear made him hold his tongue. Fear of rejection, fear of causing difficulties for Padmé. He never wanted to bring her any kind of pain or trouble, but he knew he did. Despite the best of intentions, he couldn't seem to help it. 

Realising that the Chancellor was still waiting for an answer, Anakin said, “Thank you, sir. I know I’ll never have a reason to doubt your trust in me.” 

“No, my boy,” Palpatine agreed, “you won’t.”

***

After surreptitious discussion, Sabé, Obi-Wan and Gregar all agreed that the best course of action regarding Moteé and her suspicious activity was to follow her the next time she went out. They found their opportunity the very next day after returning from Naboo, as Moteé had swapped her day off with Teckla. Leaving Gregar behind to explain to Padmé, Sabé and Obi-Wan took off on a stealthy pursuit. 

It was not as easy as they had hoped on a busy Coruscanti afternoon. Moteé was no fool, and she often paused to look behind her as she went, forcing Sabé and Obi-Wan to put their reflexes to the test as they ducked out of sight. 

“This is ridiculous,” Sabé declared, crouching low behind a street vendor’s stall. “She’s going to know something’s up.”

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement. They were both dressed casually, Obi-Wan minus his Jedi robe, Sabé in a nondescript outfit consisting of boots, leggings and blouse, all in shades of brown. They were as unremarkable as they possibly could be, but ducking and hiding was shifty behaviour, to say the least. 

Then Obi-Wan cracked a crafty smile. His hair growth had been accelerated by the droid at the Jedi Temple so that it grew back to its original length within a matter of hours, but his beard was taking a more natural path. As such, Sabé was able to appreciate his expression to its full, glad that it was his and not Rako Hardeen’s. 

“Oh,” she said warily, “I know that look. What are you up to?” 

“She’s looking behind,” he pointed out, “but she’s not looking up. We need to take a slightly more unusual route.” 

Sabé stared at him with wide eyes. “Are you serious?”

In reply he pulled her to her feet, scooped her up into his arms, then leapt up ten stories of the building beside them to land on one of its tiered roofs. Sabé bit back a shocked scream, throwing her arms around his neck and clinging on for dear life. He ran along the roof, taking a flying jump at the end of it to land on a balcony on the next building. Sabé tried to keep eyes on Moteé’s purple-clad figure below, but she found herself often squeezing them shut rather than look down at the dizzying gaps Obi-Wan was taking them over. As with almost all of Coruscant, its layers went down far deeper than the level most people were walking on. Sabé didn’t have a problem with heights, but travelling by Jedi was not how she wanted to navigate them. 

For several minutes they kept level with Moteé, tracking her progress, until it became clear where she was going. 

“500 Republica,” Sabé said, craning her neck to look ahead of them. “If we lose her in there, we’ll have no hope of finding out where she’s going. It’s the largest apartment block on the planet.” 

“Does Daedrin live there, do you know?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“Yes, but so do thousands of other people.” 

“Hmm. All right, hang on, we’re going down.” 

Sabé dug her fingers into his tunic, scoffing. “I’ve been doing nothing _but_ hanging on for the past five minutes!” 

Obi-Wan chuckled, then casually dropped off the balcony. He landed in a crouch beside a thoroughly surprised Bith salesman and set Sabé on her feet. She wobbled slightly, and he gripped her elbow, looking concerned. 

Sabé held up a hand. “I’m fine, I’m fine. That was just…not how I expected to travel today.” 

He let her go, and they ducked and weaved their way towards the entrance of the mammoth tower block. Standing at over a thousand stories high, it dominated the space it stood in, casting a wide shadow. Moteé was just at the main door, speaking to the security droid there. They didn’t catch everything she said, but Sabé distinctly heard her fellow handmaiden say she was heading for the six-hundred and first floor. 

Obi-Wan got them past one of the other droids, his authority as a Jedi giving him complete discretion. The turbolifts were bustling with people, but Obi-Wan saw an opportunity that Sabé missed. Before she knew it, he had wrapped an arm around her waist, there was a blur of movement, and then they were safely inside a lift just as the door slid shut. Sabé blinked, trying to figure out what had just happened, while Obi-Wan let her go and pressed the button for the floor Moteé was going to. 

Concluding that he had used some kind of Jedi super speed, she fixed him with a glare, wishing that she’d had a warning. The presence of other people in the lift kept her silent. Obi-Wan sent her a benevolent smirk, turning to look up at the floor numbers changing rapidly on the display above the door. 

They stepped out of the lift when it reached their floor, immediately looking around for a hiding place. Sabé squeezed herself into a corner behind a large plant pot, while Obi-Wan ducked down behind its twin on the opposite side of the lobby. They waited in silence for several long minutes, watching the residents of the building gradually trickle out of the turbolifts. Eventually, Moteé was one of them. 

At a discreet distance, they followed, their footsteps mercifully muted by the thick carpet that lined the corridors. Moteé was walking with an air of anticipation now, no longer concerned with peering over her shoulder. The doors were widely spaced, each apartment taking up a generous amount of room, and she stopped outside one of them, tapping the panel there. Sabé edged around the corner she was hiding behind, just enough to let one eye see what was going on. She was aware of Obi-Wan just behind her, doing the same. Feeling a little anxious, she bit her lip, praying that they wouldn’t hear Daedrin’s voice when the door opened. 

There was a quiet swish as it slid aside, and Sabé tensed. A figure clad in white and grey darted out into the corridor and picked Moteé up, holding her close in an elevated hug while she giggled. Sabé stared in amazement. She had never heard the stoic handmaiden _giggle_. She didn’t even know she was capable of it. As she watched, the man lowered Moteé to the floor, leaning in to kiss her eagerly. After a moment she gently pushed him away. 

“Not here, someone will see,” she chided, smiling. 

The man looked at her, a grin spreading across his face, and Sabé realised she knew him. Tall, dark-skinned and handsome, he was Giddean Danu, a senator from Kuat. He took Moteé’s hand, drawing her into the apartment, and the door shut behind them. 

Sabé remained where she was, stunned. Whatever she’d been expecting to find, the scenario she had just witnessed had never crossed her mind. Obi-Wan placed a hand on her shoulder, pulling her away. Wordlessly, they headed back to the turbolifts, by unspoken agreement, not commenting until they were outside once more. 

“I know him,” Sabé blurted out, as they walked across the plaza in 500 Republica’s looming shadow. “Giddean Danu. He’s a senator.”

“Is it possible he could be an associate of Daedrin’s?” Obi-Wan asked. 

Sabé shook her head at once. “Doubtful. He’s a friend of Bail Organa’s, and I happen to know that _he_ is a pretty good judge of character.” 

“Yes, I would agree with that.” 

“So…is Danu her ‘sick friend’?” Sabé pondered aloud. “If so, who was that woman Nadini?”

Obi-Wan sent her a sidelong glance. “Who is this Danu? Is he married? Is that why they’re keeping it secret?”

“I don’t know him well, but no, I don’t think he’s married,” Sabé said with a shrug. “You know what the HoloNet is like, though. A senator involved with an aide – another senator’s aide, at that – would invite scandal. They would ask stupid questions about whether Moteé was passing information from Padmé, or something along those lines.” She huffed, irritated by the hypothetical situation she was imagining. “The gossip section of the HoloNet isn’t known for its accuracy or sensitivity. I guess I understand her reasoning, but it’s so stupid of her to sneak around when there’s a murderer on the loose. Maybe she thinks I’m likely to be taken out before her.” 

“If Daedrin is behind it, then it’s possible, I suppose,” Obi-Wan put in. “He’s already tried, after all. The grenade on Naboo.” 

“Yes. I dread to think what else he might be planning, considering that he’s bitter over the marriage thing.” 

They turned off the plaza, joining the throngs of people on the walkway that wove between the skyscrapers. 

“Do you want to walk back or go the same way we came?” Obi-Wan asked innocently. 

Sabé shot him a glare. “The next time I travel up ten stories of a building that quickly, I want to do so inside a turbolift, thank you.” 

He chuckled, not seeming at all surprised. “Where is your sense of adventure?”

“Firmly hand in hand with my sense of self-preservation,” Sabé retorted without missing a beat. 

It did not take them long to walk back to Padmé’s apartment, even without Obi-Wan’s speedy Jedi abilities. There, they reported what they’d discovered to Padmé and Gregar, both of whom were openly shocked. 

“I had no idea Giddean was involved with anyone,” Padmé said in surprise, “least of all someone from my own staff. Although, I’m relieved that that’s what it is rather than what it looked like before.”

Sabé nodded in fervent agreement. Uncovering a love affair was far preferable to having confirmation that a fellow handmaiden was in league with a murderer. 

“What do we do about it now?” Gregar asked. “Do we confront her?”

“I think we’ll have to, if we want the truth,” Sabé said. “She probably won’t be happy about it, but we need to know. We need to figure out who this Nadini is.”

True to her prediction, Moteé was _not_ happy about it, her temper flaring spectacularly within a minute of the conversation beginning. The four of them waited until she got back to the apartment, then made sure they had the formal lounge to themselves. Padmé started things off, relaying what Sabé and Obi-Wan had found out, explaining why they had followed her in the first place. 

Moteé’s cheeks flushed in anger, her eyes bright as she rounded on Sabé. “You had no right to do that! How dare you stick your nose in where it isn’t wanted!”

“We had no choice,” Sabé countered, trying to keep her voice calm. “Can’t you appreciate what it looked like? We had to find out what you were doing.”

“How can you even think that I’d betray the Order?” Moteé snapped heatedly. 

“What would you have done?” Sabé asked her. “If you had been in the same situation, you would have made the same decision I did.” 

Moteé said nothing, turning away, teeth clenched. 

“Moteé,” Padmé cut in soothingly, “you have a right to your privacy, but we need to know. Do you know this woman Nadini?”

“No,” Moteé answered, a little more steadily. “I…there never was a sick friend,” she revealed, her reluctance plain to see. “I was always…with Giddean.” 

“Why keep it secret?” Padmé said softly.

“Because I didn’t want the HoloNet getting hold of the story and turning it into scandal,” Moteé burst out. “Unlike some, I’m aware what impact negative stories have on your reputation, M’lady.” 

Sabé frowned, hearing the thinly-veiled jibe, clearly aimed at her. 

Padmé spoke before she could say anything. “I appreciate your loyalty, Moteé, but your anger at Sabé is misplaced. I had full knowledge of her plan to marry Obi-Wan and I endorsed it.” 

Moteé looked a strange mixture of confused and sheepish, shooting Sabé a quick glance before turning her attention back to Padmé. 

“Your life is yours,” Padmé told her firmly. “Be with who makes you happy and pay no attention to the HoloNet. I don’t care what they say about me, and neither will anyone with any sense.” 

Moteé seemed to struggle for words, eventually settling on a nod. 

Sabé left her with Padmé, relieved to have the truth confirmed, but annoyed by the conversation in general. Obi-Wan accompanied her, but Gregar stayed put. Sabé headed downstairs, coming to a halt in the veranda lounge. Obi-Wan touched her arm, looking at her with mild concern. 

“Are you all right?”

She sent him a small smile that she intended to be reassuring. “Fine. I just…I don’t like what she said back there. About me bringing scandal down on Padmé.”

“You know Padmé doesn’t agree,” he reminded her. 

“Yes, but…even still.” She gave a shrug, brushing it all aside. “I’ll get over it. What do we do now?” 

“If you’re happy to stay here, I’m going to go and speak to the Council,” Obi-Wan said decisively. “It’s time we found out who this Nadini is.” 

***

When Daedrin let himself into his spare apartment, the first thing he saw was the clearly-livid woman sitting ramrod straight in his desk chair. 

“How nice of you to pay me a social visit,” he muttered dryly, hearing the comforting sound of the lock activating behind him. There were dubious characters scattered all over the building. 

“Is there any part of this plan that’s going right?” she asked him coldly, arms folded. 

“Did you miss the bit where we already killed several Order members?” 

She got to her feet, approaching him swiftly so she could stare him down. “What are you playing at? You told me that setting up Moteé as a suspect would work. You said that you being seen with her at the ball and me posing as her friend would be enough to make Sabé suspicious. You said that the death of Obi-Wan Kenobi, coupled with this suspicion, would set her off guard. You said that I’d be able to take her and Moteé out at the Festival of Light. But wait. _Actually_ , she’s absolutely fine, Obi-Wan Kenobi isn’t dead, they’re all slightly distracted by someone trying to kidnap the damn Chancellor so I never even have a chance to get near them, and it turns out that I broke my cover for _nothing_.”

Daedrin stood still in the face of her tirade, waiting for her to take a breath. “What do you want me to say?”

Nadini jabbed a finger at his chest. “I want you to come up with some actual workable plans so that you don’t get us both killed. Thank gods I didn’t give them my real name. No doubt they’re investigating me already.”

“What name _did_ you give them?” he asked, curious. 

“The same one I gave you,” she told him succinctly. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t exactly trust you.” 

“I don’t trust you either, what does it matter? This partnership works.” 

Her pale green eyes narrowed as she glared at him. “Guess we’ll see how true that is, won’t we?” 

Daedrin rolled his eyes. “I’m sure we will.”

“From now on _you_ can take care of Sabé,” Nadini declared, her tone inviting no argument. “She’s your obsession anyway.”

“She rejected me,” Daedrin spat bitterly. “I don’t take kindly to that.” 

“Whatever. Give me other names to deal with. She’s all yours.” 

He scoffed. “If that were the case I’d have the pleasure of her company instead of yours.” 

She smirked. “Pretty sure she’d tear strips off you too. The only difference is you’d get to sleep with her afterward.” 

He tilted his head, smiling at her coldly. “Darling,” he said sarcastically, “that makes _all_ the difference.” 

Nadini made a soft noise of disgust, not bothering to hide her contempt. “If I wasn’t getting paid for this, I’d be right out that door.”

“No one is paying you to get in my face and irritate me,” Daedrin said conversationally. “But here you are. Besides, if you walk away from this you walk away from getting revenge on the Order. Don’t you want them to realise that throwing you out was a mistake?”

A flicker of something a touch more emotional passed over her face, gone in seconds. “That’s why I’m sticking with this. That, and the money.” 

He knew that. It made her so very easy to read, now that he knew her story. “Glad to hear it,” was all he said. 

She looked sceptical. “Are you?” she asked sardonically. 

Daedrin ignored her, turning away. He had research to do, otherwise they wouldn’t have a next target. He only hoped she would let him get on with it without interrupting him. Unless she planned on seducing him, in which case he’d probably let her succeed. He doubted that was likely though. She was colder than Hoth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sobiweek is coming up over on Tumblr. It starts on June 9th, so if you have any new fanworks to post don't forget to tag them #sobiweek2019 :)


	23. Long-Forgotten Foe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Clone Wars storylines are summed up in this chapter.

**Chapter Twenty-Three – Long-Forgotten Foe.**

 

A few weeks after Obi-Wan had gone undercover as Rako Hardeen, he was summoned to meet with Yoda at the Jedi Temple. Things had been relatively quiet since the Hardeen mission. Obi-Wan had received a call from an absolutely livid Satine Kryze, who had berated him for making her think he was dead. Sabé had been mortified when she found out, and she had been forced to confess that she’d forgotten to tell him that the duchess had been at his funeral. Obi-Wan didn’t blame her, of course, but she felt horribly guilty all the same. 

Padmé had submitted more evidence to the council on Naboo, backing up her arguments against the marriage law. Once again, they were waiting for a verdict, prepared to do so for several weeks yet. Sabé couldn’t help having mixed feelings about the whole thing, however ungrateful and selfish it made her feel. 

Shortly after Moteé’s secret became known, Obi-Wan told the Jedi Council about the mysterious woman Nadini, but there had been no luck in either locating her or finding out who she was. The name was just an alias. Still, Sabé was hopeful that Obi-Wan’s summons from Yoda would yield some information about her. That hope was dashed as soon as he walked through the door, however. 

Off duty that day, Sabé had spent her time alone giving the apartment a thorough clean, as they had no droid to keep on top of things. It gave her something to do, so she was not constantly wondering what Yoda’s urgent news was. Obi-Wan returned as she was relaxing with a book and a cup of tea, and she took in his expression, as grim and troubled as she’d ever seen it. 

Instantly concerned, she sat up straighter. “What is it?” 

He did not answer right away, slipping off his robe and hanging it up before joining her on the sofa. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he fixed her with a serious look. “Do you remember the Sith Lord Qui-Gon and I fought on Naboo?” he asked.

Surprised by the question, Sabé nodded. “Uh…yes. That’s…not the kind of face you forget.” She tried to recall his name. Governor Sio Bibble had been kept prisoner by the Trade Federation and their allies, and so had had a lot to report to Padmé once the planet was liberated. “Darth Maul, wasn’t it?” she said, remembering. 

“Yes.” Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet, heavy with unease. “There have been reports that he’s still alive.” 

Sabé blinked in confusion. “But…you cut him in _half_.”

“I did,” he confirmed. “That’s why I’m dubious now.” 

“But you’re worried,” she pointed out. 

“There’s always a chance that the reports are true.”

“But _how_ could anyone survive that?” 

His expression darkened even further. “You’d be surprised what sheer will to live can achieve. Especially coupled with the kind of hatred the Sith channel.” 

Sabé fell silent, considering the concept. It was unnerving. 

“The only reason I was granted the rank of Knight was because I’d killed a Sith Lord,” he went on morosely. 

“Obi-Wan, you can’t think that way,” she chided gently. “Look at everything you’ve achieved over the years. No one could doubt your right to carry the title of Knight when you did.” 

He sent her a brief smile, as if he saw the sense in her words but didn’t quite want to acknowledge it. There was gratitude there too. 

“What happens now?” she asked. 

“When we have a location, I’m going to have to go and seek the truth. To see…if it truly _is_ him.”

Sabé had been expecting that, but she still hated to hear it. The thought of him walking straight into the path of a fury-driven Sith Lord who would no doubt be hell bent on revenge made her heart skip in fear. “Can’t you take Anakin with you?” 

Obi-Wan shook his head. “If it truly is Maul, I don’t want him near anyone I care about.” 

That made sense, and was so like him it almost made her smile, but she had other things to focus on. “How long will it be until you know?” 

“I have no idea,” he admitted. “Master Yoda says he’ll summon me. But I don’t think it will be long.” 

As it turned out, he was right. The very next day, Obi-Wan was called back to the Temple, leaving an anxious Sabé at Padmé’s apartment. She went through her duties for the day, trying to keep herself busy, but couldn’t stop her mind wandering. After several hours, he returned, and they ducked into an empty office for privacy. 

“I need to leave within the hour,” he told her briskly.

Sabé nodded, biting her lip in concern. “What’s going on?”

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair, looking unusually anxious. “He’s…he sent a holo message to the Temple. He’s on Raydonia, slaughtering villagers. He says the planet will burn unless I go and face him alone. I can’t let that happen.”

“No, of course not,” she said, even as she wished there was a way he could stay. 

“I’m sorry that this takes me away from my duty to you,” Obi-Wan added, “especially so soon after the Festival of Light…but…it has to be me.”

Sabé nodded, knowing it well. Of course it had to be him. That was precisely why she was so worried. 

“I hope to be back in a day, but if I’m not…you’ll be safe here.”

Not trusting herself to speak, Sabé simply nodded again. Pushing any apprehension aside, she approached him, resting her hands on his shoulders and meeting his gaze. “Just come back,” she ordered him. 

“I’ll do my best.” 

She knew it was the most truth he could offer her. Rising up on her toes, she placed a gentle kiss to his forehead. When she sank back down, his face was unreadable, eyes burning with a fierce kind of intensity that she couldn’t quite decipher. Sabé tried to smile encouragingly, but she couldn’t muster the enthusiasm. Still, her efforts made the corner of his lips twitch, as if he appreciated her trying. 

Stepping back slightly, Sabé dropped her hands from his shoulders. To her surprise, he caught one, holding her fingers between his warm palms, and gallantly kissed the back of it. Before her shock would let her speak, he let go and swept out of the room, leaving her standing there open-mouthed, her skin still tingling. 

Distractedly, Sabé returned to her duties, once again settling in for a period of anxious waiting. She hoped and prayed that he would keep to his word and come back to her. 

In the end, it was less time than she'd dared hope, just a day, as he'd said. Still, the relief she felt at seeing him arrive to pick her up was as much as if she'd been waiting a week. He was weary, battered, and missing his robe, but he was alive. Padmé let her leave early so she could let him get home to rest. 

"What happened?" she asked, as she piloted them back to the apartment. "Was it him?"

"It was," he confirmed with a grunt, one arm curled protectively around his ribs in a way that suggested he was trying to make it look casual. Sabé wasn't fooled. She could clearly see he was in pain. 

"And...the Raydonians?" she ventured, fearing she already knew the answer.

"Dead," Obi-Wan said quietly. "Maul wasn't alone. He had Savage Opress with him. It seems they're brothers." 

Sabé had heard stories about Opress, a dark creature warped by the Nightsisters of Dathomir, once an experimental apprentice of Count Dooku's. He was almost feral and absurdly strong. 

"That's not good," she muttered, understatement though it was. "How did you make it out of there?" 

"I had some unexpected help from Asajj Ventress."

Sabé glanced at him in surprise. She'd never heard a single report of Ventress helping _anybody_. 

Obi-Wan saw her expression and elaborated. "It seems there's a bounty on Opress's head. She was there to collect it. Unfortunately, they were too strong for us both. We only escaped by trapping ourselves in the cockpit of their ship and ejecting from the main body." 

Sabé took in the worrying news with a frown, parking the speeder in the lot of their apartment building. She watched as Obi-Wan grimaced his way out of his seat and over to the turbolift. 

"Did you go to the Temple before you came to Padmé's?" she asked him, joining him in the lift. 

"Yes, why?"

"Didn't you see the med droid?" 

"No," he said at once. "I'll be fine, it's just bruising. It seems the brothers rather enjoy kicking me around."

Sabé shook her head in irritation, wondering if he was going to be a difficult patient. "I think I have some salve in the fresher that should help them heal quicker." 

He nodded and thanked her, although she couldn't tell if it was to placate her, or because he actually wanted the treatment.

Up in the apartment, Sabé headed for the cabinet in the fresher, ordering Obi-Wan to prepare. He was still where she’d left him when she returned to the lounge, looking sceptical. 

“You don’t need to do this,” he said awkwardly. “I’ll manage.”

“How do you intend to reach your back?” she asked simply. 

He paused, considering the question, not coming up with an answer quickly enough for Sabé. 

“Shirt off,” she instructed curtly.

“Is that really necessary?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, stop being such a child. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Which was technically true, although she’d only seen him in half-darkness. She strongly suspected that he was trying to save her feelings, and that just made her feel self-conscious, but she was determined to be business-like about it. 

With a reluctant shrug, he shed his top layers. His torso and arms were a mass of stormy purple bruises, blotching over old scars and battle wounds. Sabé winced when she saw the state he was in, and he looked down at himself, frowning. 

“Seems I’ve seen better days,” he mumbled. 

Sabé approached him, taking the lid off the pot of salve. She began with his back, gently rubbing the healing substance into his tender skin. He tensed as she started, causing her to cringe in sympathy. 

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” 

“No, it’s just…” he gave a quick chuckle, “your hands are cold.” 

“Oh.” She laughed too. “Sorry. They’ll soon warm up.” 

She’d been a little worried that the situation was asking for trouble, considering how distracted she could get since realising the extent of her feelings for him, but the dark hue of the bruises kept her focused.

“Must have been some fight,” she murmured as she worked. 

“Yes,” he said softly. “His hatred of me has made him strong.” 

Sabé knew it wasn’t over, and wouldn’t be until Maul was dead or captured. The thought gave her a deep sense of foreboding. Such singular, destructive hatred was frightening. She tried to brush it aside. 

“This ointment will bring the bruises out quicker, so they’ll heal sooner,” she explained, despite the fact that she knew he was probably aware of what it did. “You’ll look a mess in the morning!” 

“No surprises there,” he said dryly. 

Sabé moved around to his front, purposely not meeting his eyes. She dreaded what she might see there, or what he might see in her. Casually, she dabbed more salve on a particularly nasty bruise on the right hand side of his ribcage. 

“I don’t envy you trying to find a comfortable way to sleep tonight,” she commented. 

“Neither do I.” 

She continued in silence for a moment, still not quite able to look up into his eyes. His breathing seemed shallow and tense all of a sudden, and she tried not to read too much into it. It was most likely pain that was the cause, after all. And there was a chance he’d face worse before the end. 

“You’re going to have to find him again, aren’t you?” she said. 

“I can’t let him carry on killing innocents,” Obi-Wan stated quietly. 

“No,” she agreed. 

“Does it worry you?” he asked.

Sabé pondered what to answer, eventually saying simply, “Of course it does.” She chanced a quick look at his expression, seeing the open curiosity there. "Your life can be dangerous, I get that, but this…this is different. This…monster has made it personal. We both know he won't stop until he's destroyed you, and he doesn't care for anyone or anything that might be in his path. I know you have to stop him, but…knowing what you're facing…yes, of course I'm worried. I…I care about you." Inwardly cursing at the way she’d stumbled over the words, she moved on to the last bruise, just underneath his collar bone. 

Obi-Wan said nothing for a long moment, just long enough for Sabé to regret what she’d admitted. 

“Um…” He cleared his throat, saying softly, “Sabé, I…”

“All done,” she interrupted brightly, feeling too cowardly to let him finish. Taking half a step back, she put the lid on the pot. 

Obi-Wan’s face showed his discomfort: his regret _and_ relief that she hadn’t let him finish. Sabé fought back a wave of alarm, dreading to think what he would have said. She doubted it was anything she wanted to hear, or didn’t already know. 

“Thank you.” He smiled, just a small, polite one, and gingerly shrugged back into the soft brown shirt he wore beneath his tunic. 

“I’ll wash my hands then get us some food,” Sabé declared, heading for the fresher. 

“It’s my turn to cook,” Obi-Wan reminded her. 

“I know, but you’re injured.” 

“They’re just bruises, Sabé,” he grumbled, a twinkle of amusement appearing in his eyes. “I can already feel that salve working.”

“Even still,” she said determinedly. “Cooking two days in a row won’t kill me. Now sit down and rest.” 

Holding up his hands peaceably, he did just that. With the banter came the usual ease they felt around each other, and Sabé welcomed it. There had been tension growing heavy in the room while she had tended to his injuries. Whenever she got close to him, she wanted to wrap her arms around him, to feel him wrap his around her. It wasn’t enough that they were good friends. She wanted him to know every side of her, to have him hold nothing back from her, she wanted them to be everything to each other. Above all else at that moment, she wanted to protect him from the likes of Darth Maul and Savage Opress, or anyone else who wanted to do him harm. It was a ridiculous thought really, that a Jedi of Obi-Wan’s calibre would need protection from someone like her, but she couldn’t help wishing she could keep him safe. She was a bodyguard, after all. Protecting people was what she did. But she knew she’d never voice any of it to Obi-Wan. It seemed too much, too clingy. His life was his to lead. 

Shoving the thoughts aside, Sabé got to work preparing their meal, and the rest of the evening passed in companionable ease. 

Over the following days, reports started to trickle in of raids and murders across the Outer Rim, descriptions from survivors matching those of Maul and Opress. As the numbers grew, the Jedi Council realised that the incidents needed investigating, as it seemed clear that the brothers were gathering funds to put their plans in motion. Sabé wasn't surprised when Obi-Wan informed her he was once again going after Maul. 

"Please tell me you're not going alone, at least," she addressed him sternly, arms folded. 

"No," he said at once, taking the edge off her worry. "Master Adi Gallia has volunteered to accompany me."

Sabé furrowed her brow, thinking. "I don't know her, do I?"

"I don't think so, but she's sat on the Jedi Council since before I was a Padawan." He offered a small smile of reassurance. "She's a more reliable ally than Ventress, that's for sure."

Sabé snorted. "Well, that wouldn't be hard." 

His answering smirk showed his agreement, but it was clear that he was already focusing on the mission ahead of him. 

Later, as she stood on duty while Padmé attended a formal lunch with a collection of senators, Sabé reflected on their parting. It hadn't been as emotionally charged as the last one, but she had once again asked him to come back safe. She seemed unable to send him off anywhere without saying it, as if leaving it unsaid would somehow jinx him. It was silly and irrational, but she did it anyway. It seemed to work, he always came back. Only this time, he came back alone. 

***

It was the middle of another restless Coruscant night when Obi-Wan returned Adi Gallia’s body to the Jedi Temple, his heart heavy with weary sadness. He’d known the unflappable Jedi Master a long time. She’d tutored Siri Tachi, and had – within the limits of the Code – mourned with him when her former student had died in action. A Jedi Council without Gallia’s presence seemed strange and unnatural to him. 

His report to the Council was as brief as he could feasibly make it. He was in desperate need of recovery time. Maul and Oppress had escaped once again, he was certain of it. Obi-Wan knew the Sith well enough to be sure that crashing a ship was more of an inconvenience rather than a fatal accident. The brothers would turn up again. It was simply a matter of when and where, and who would be unfortunate enough to be crushed in their path. 

After a grim debrief, Obi-Wan was finally free to head back to the apartment. It was strange, but the safe-house had truly begun to feel like home. That was mostly down to Sabé’s presence, he knew. The extent of how true that was sat as a constant worry across his already-burdened shoulders. 

He wasn’t surprised to find that she had gone to bed already. The hour was late, and she no doubt had a relatively early start. Still, he felt a desperate need to talk to her, to share his sorrows. Any other time, he would have put his own needs aside and let her sleep, but she had given him strict instructions to wake her if he returned during the night. 

As he approached her door, which she had intentionally left open, he quirked a small smile at the way she had anticipated his thought process. A career of observing Padmé had made her adept at reading people. Or perhaps it was just him she could read so well. 

Treading softly, he entered her room, somewhere he refused to set foot without invitation. Sabé was curled up on her side, the frown etched between her brows making him wonder what she was dreaming about. Crouching down, he reached out and tried to smooth it away with the pad of his thumb. Sabé wrinkled her nose, batting his hand away, and he almost laughed. 

Her eyes opened, squinting at him sleepily. Once she took in the sight of his face, they widened, and she shifted to sit up. 

“You’re back,” she mumbled. 

“I landed an hour or two ago,” he said softly, mindful of her waking up process. 

Her dark eyes were lit with sudden clarity as the remnants of sleep left her, and she swept her critical gaze over him. “Are you hurt?”

He shook his head. “No. Just a top-up on my bruises.” 

Sabé leaned forward and patted the end of the bed. The coverlet became flat as she tucked her feet up to give him room to sit. Moving from his crouched position, he accepted her invitation. 

“What happened?” she asked. 

With a sigh, he told her about the encounter with Maul and Oppress, Adi Gallia’s fate, his suspicions that the brothers were still alive, and the guilt he felt at the destruction they left behind them. Sabé was a sympathetic listener, particularly when he spoke about Gallia’s loss, but as he expressed his sense of responsibility she frowned severely. 

“Obi-Wan,” she began with a sigh of her own, “none of this is your fault. How could you think that?” 

“Maul is out for revenge against me. I took on the task of eliminating him all those years ago, and I failed.” 

“You cut him in _half_ ,” Sabé exclaimed. “Nobody could have predicted that he’d survive that. Be reasonable. These casualties, they’re on Maul’s head and Maul’s head alone.” 

He knew there was truth and logic to her words, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt, nor of dread at the thought of what the brothers would do next. 

“I just can’t help but feel…” he began, trying to put it into words. “Something worse is on the horizon.”

Sabé looked at him in concern. “Do you sense it?” she asked. “Or are you just worried?”

He met her gaze, speaking the truth that terrified him deep down. “I can’t tell.” 

Sabé frowned, seeming to understand his struggle. She placed a comforting hand on his arm, squeezing gently. “It won’t do any good to speculate,” she said sagely. “We’re at war. There will _always_ be something bad on the horizon.”

He saw the truth in her sobering words, appreciating the warmth of her palm through his sleeve. Very deliberately, he forced himself not to dwell on the fact that she was garbed only in a thin nightgown. He was only just cautiously considering exactly how much she meant to him, he didn’t need to think about how easily he could be distracted if he let himself. 

“Sorry,” Sabé added, mercifully oblivious to his thoughts, “I know that’s…sort of depressing.” 

“No, you’re right,” he assured her. “I’ll try not to dwell on it.” A favourite mantra of Master Yoda’s floated through his head, and he almost quirked a smile, reconsidering. “Scratch that,” he said. “I _won’t_ dwell on it. There is no try.” 

“There isn’t?” Sabé questioned, tilting her head. “How does that work?”

“Depends who you ask. Master Yoda tells every student that they must ‘do or do not’. We all interpret it different ways. I’ve always taken it to mean that if you state your intention to try, you’re admitting that you expect to fail on some level. It immediately jumps you from ‘try’ to ‘do not’.”

“That’s…a little harsh,” she said, frowning as she fumbled to understand the Jedi point of view. 

“It’s a cumbersome way of enforcing positive thinking,” Obi-Wan told her, half wanting to smooth out her frown again. 

“Well I suppose I can’t disagree with that. You should go and get some rest. Focus on not dwelling on it.”

He nodded. “I can’t sleep, but I can meditate. Things always seem clearer then.”

Sabé smiled at him, dropping her hand. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Sleep well. And thank you.” 

“You have nothing to thank me for,” she declared, although he fervently disagreed. 

He left her to the few hours of sleep she had before her alarm was due to go off, retreating to his own room to think. Maul would rear his head again, and when he did, Obi-Wan would be ready to step in and face him. In the meantime, he would focus on the here and now, as Qui-Gon had always taught him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter ended up being entirely set-up for Maul, but at least there are Feelings in there too :)


End file.
